


The New One

by aninternetfriend



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, I don't even know why, New Girl au, but screw it, still not sure about this, yay multi chapters and yay my inability to finish them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 59,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aninternetfriend/pseuds/aninternetfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Girl AU</p><p>After Emma's life takes a little turn, she doesn't have a choice but to find a roommate. Or three. Maybe male.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ermegerd okay I rewatched New Girl and I had the feels and I suddenly found myself writing Emma as a tough Emma-ed Jess. Whoops. Who knew it could fit well with some twists?
> 
> Btw, I really did take a few lines from the show, so Credits to FOX and and Liz.

_"He doesn't even know I'm coming, Ruby. For him, I'd be back on Friday."_

_"And your surprise for him is to role play as a hooker a few hours after you meet?" Her friend's voice sounded downright skeptical, well aware of how that was_ very _un-Emma-like._

 _Emma hummed, replaying her plan for later on her head: she would arrive there, they would spend some quality quiet time together and, by the evening, she'd help him with some..._ Bedroom activities. _Roleplaying was never something Emma found attractive or fun; but she was willing to do it for Neal. "Anything wrong with that?"_

 _"Not at all. It's just not really... You know,_ you _."_

_"I know. But I love him, so I'll do it for him more than for myself."_

_"Okay, then," her friend acknowledged. "Gotta go, see you tomorrow."_

_"Bye, Ruby."_

_Not long later, she was exiting the cab she'd taken from the airport, tugging her luggage behind her. She opened the front door to their house, hearing nothing but silence._

_"Anyone home?," she called, looking around as she left her massive and heavy bag by the door. "Neal?"_

_She walked to the living room, her eyes scanning the room for signs of life. There wasn't much dust, so he was still there or hadn't left long before._

_That was when Neal himself appeared at the kitchen door, nothing but boxers on. He had a startled and surprised look on his face, his hand twitching as if he wanted to do something he couldn't. "Emma!," he breathed out, but it was different than Emma imagined on her way there. There was no trace of a smile on his lips, no ghost of happiness or relief in his brown eyes. He just stared at her for a few seconds, a still startled look marring his expression._

_The reason appeared a second later._ Literally.

_A dark skinned woman came giggling from the kitchen to stop next to him. She had a tank top on, but no pants covering her underwear. The smile on her face instantly dropped at the sight of Emma._

_No one said a word, no one made a sound._

_That was going to be_ ugly _._

"...And that's what happened. That's basically why I'm here. What was the question again?"

She alternated her look between the three sets of eyes that were studying her. The one in the right - scruffy, blue-very-blue eyed and an honestly handsome-as-shit face - blinked.

"Do you have any pets?"

 

* * *

 

After about three questions, Emma sighed. "You know, when I read your ad, I actually thought you were women." She said it half-chuckling, but the guys full on _laughed_ at it.

"Whale wrote the ad," one of the two blonde men, his accent matching the dark haired's, informed her after she sent them a questioning glance.

The other one, slouched between the two of them, chuckled - _falsely_ \- and leaned forwards, his face suddenly turning dead serious. "What do you mean, you thought we were women? _Why_ would you think that? That's crap." He was near hysteria, apparently.

"I don't know, I think it was because of the words you used? Like ' _sun-soaked_ ' and ' _beige_ '?"

The others' laughter increased, but came to a halt when Whale started taking off his shirt.

The dark haired - she forgot his name again - rolled his eyes. "What are you doing?," he groaned.

Whale ignored him, inhaling deeply to stuff his chest before relaxing - a bit too much - against the couch. Emma's eyes quickly studied the abs on the blonde's abdomen before looking at the others as if seeking for help - she was able to maintain her expression indifferent while she was laughing on the inside. _Men_... "Do these look beige to you?," he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively. _Ugh_.

The blonde Brit's voice - she forgot his name too, _damn_ \- filled her ears. "I actually built that, since I'm his trainer. So all of the credit goes to me," he informed her as he gestured towards the abs. She gave him a small tight lipped smile.

"I call this LLW. Ladies Love Whale."

"What?," he was quick to be interrupted by the dark haired, who looked at him in disbelief. "Did you actually just say that? Go put a dollar on the jar _right now._ "

Whale - she was still to learn his first name - groaned. " _Really_? Damn it..." He got up, striding around the couch and fishing a bill from his pocket and tucking it in a jar. It was only then she noticed the label: ' _Douchebag Jar_ '. Well, that was actually a genius idea and definitely fit.

Emma got up from her seat on the armchair she had slumped on ten minutes before. "This place is actually amazing, you know? It's massive and has a lot of space. Neal's house was a closet compared to this," she looked around as she walked, studying the naked brick walls and the high ceiling.

Whale got up and walked after her, keeping a bit of distance. "Must be hard to say his name. Killian would know; he got dumped."

The dark haired - Killian - glared at him. "It was over a _year_ ago, you git. Get over it as I did."

"It's actually not that hard. It's not like he ripped my heart out and crushed it. He just... Disappointed me in ways I didn't even know he could."

Killian's sympathetic eyes raised to hers for a second and Emma felt her heart race a slight bit. _God_ , she had just broken up with her boyfriend - _ex boyfriend_ \- and another man was already making her feel _smitten_. _Damned be his good looks._

The other two got up from the couch too as Emma leaned against the dining table nearby, watching them as they exchanged glances and walked towards her.

"So, you're doing okay, so far, but we barely know you, love. We'd need more," Killian said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Well... To sum it up, I'm kind of in the mixed feelings stage of the break up, so I'll probably break something on purpose because I'm angry," she informed them, a memory of the destroyed toaster at Mary Margaret's place the day before coming to her mind. She could swear she saw the three of them take a tiny step back. "I'm a bail bondsperson, which means I don't really have a full time job, but it's always paid the bills. I'll probably have to work overnight sometimes and just not work at all other times."

Yes, now she _definitely_ saw the surprised flash in their faces.

She then sighed. "I'm tired of living with my friend. She's a model... All her friends are models." She had been asked to do modelling before, but never really gotten to understand the sense of it at all.

Whale chuckled lightly. "How soon can you move in?"

"What? N-- _Whale_."

"Excuse me, please, miss Swan, I need to have a little talk with my ' _mates_ ' here." And, with that, he tugged on both Brits's collars across the loft to the bathroom, slamming the door after they entered.

Emma was tempted. So she followed. Approaching the door, she could already hear the voices.

"... _model!_ ," Whale was saying. " _Her friend's friends are models too! Guys, this is our chance._ "

" _Our chance?_ " Robin - she remembered - sounded skeptical. " _Regardless of them being models or not, Victor, I need my proper privacy. And I don't think living with a woman would provide me that._ "

" _Killian, it's your call_ ," Victor - Whale, apparently - said, annoyed.

A moment of silence followed, and she could picture the three of them staring each other down.

" _Alright_ ," Killian started. " _Both have good arguments, to be fair. We need to analyse each's pros and cons._ "

Robin scoffed. " _Here we go..._ "

" _Pros, a woman would probably put things in order here. We'd stop having fights for what the hell we would eat for dinner, stop arguing about the state of the kitchen. I don't know why, but that just happens. I'm sure you can remember I spent some time living with a woman, Milah._ " Both men hummed, but Emma noticed how more strained his voice sounded at the name. " _And that sort of thing just happens. Cons, women have that time of the month when she'll either want to hug stuffed toys or murder you. So it becomes hard for us men to be free in aspects like how we accidentally miss the toilet and get pee on the floor or how our shirt is too wrinkled._ "

" _Are you done?_ "

Killian ignored Victor's question. " _Honestly, I just think you both got really good points and I can't decide._ "

" _Just make a decision, Jones!_ ," Whale's loud voice echoed in the bathroom.

" _Is it really that hard?_ ," Robin asked, his voice more muffled, possibly by his own hand as he rubbed his face.

" _If you were in my spot, you'd say the same thing._ "

" _I don't want to be in your spot_."

Victor groaned. " _Okay, then, I will. She's_ in _._ "

"Really?"

Emma was surprised to see it actually came out of her. Shutting her mouth immediately, she stepped back from the door right in time for Robin to open it.

"Yes, you're in. We need your friend's contact, by the way," Whale said, stepping forwards and resting his hand on her shoulder. Emma struggled not to flinch; she was never one who liked to be randomly touched.

"I am _so_ sorry about him," Killian said from the bathroom, his hand rubbing his forehead in what could only be described as a _facepalm_.

_Off to a good start, right?_

 

* * *

 

It was about the third cardboard box she teared apart after moving the only things she'd brought from her hasty exit from Neal's place to the loft. She was sitting in front of her new bed with tiny pieces of the material scattered around her and across the room. She also had scissors, a knife and many sore spots on her hands, but she didn't care. All those tiny outbursts of anger her inner self had _had_ to be let out somehow.

She looked up at the door to a throat being cleared. Robin stood there, his hands tucked in his hoodie's pockets as he studied the state of her new room.

"Lovely."

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually. I'd like to ask you a favour," he said, striding into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed.

" _Already_?," she whined, because _it's been two days._

"Yes. I just wanted to ask you to... Well, you can see Victor's a bit disturbed and Killian's really closed off. I just wanted to tell you to make sure you won't hurt them somehow. Because I know you're _very_ capable of doing so," he added with a chuckle.

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips. "Thank you."

"And, well... My special request is to be careful around Killian. He sometimes drinks too much and just ends up really drunk instead of passing out, and he can blurt out some stuff. Some personal stuff like how did his childhood contribute to his future or random things like his theory on unicorns." She laughed, dropping the ripped piece of cardboard she'd been holding and fully turning to him on the ground.

"I'll be careful, Robin."

He grinned at her, getting up from his spot and walking back outside. Before passing through the doorway, he stopped and looked back at her. "Welcome to our loft, Emma. Hope you feel at home here."

Strangely enough, she felt this was more like home than any place she'd ever been.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty. Another one. Here we go.

Emma was curled up on the couch inside a cocoon of blankets when the door opened to Victor and Killian's laughter.

"Evening, love." She didn't move, only her eyes moving from the TV to them as they walked up to the couch.

"What's wrong?," Victor asked, sitting by her feat and patting her leg. 

"I think I'm sick and Netflix isn't working," she answered through the layers and layers of covers.

Victor made an _aww_ ing noise that made her discreetly wrinkle her nose and grabbed the TV remote. He pressed some buttons and met the same screen as she did.

" _Huh_."

"I told you. Just because I'm a ' _girl_ ' it doesn't mean I can't enter Netflix."

Killian snorted when Victor widened his eyes. "Not to count the fact you chase bad guys for a living, meaning you could easily kick his ass at, well... _Anything_."

"Yours too, Jones," Victor mumbled, annoyed. "Hey, did we pay this month?"

Emma watched as Killian narrowed his eyes. "I don't know, I think that's Robin's responsibility."

"Locksley!"

No response came.

"Is he home?," Killian asked her, and she shrugged.

"I'll call him."

Victor got up, grabbing his phone on the way, and she blushed - thank god for the covers that were pulled up to her nose - when Killian approached her and sat where Whale had.

"You said something about being ill, love?"

She hummed. "I just felt weak and suddenly found myself enveloped by blankets and more blankets. Not that I'm complaining; it's really warm."

He chuckled, his hand coming up to straighten a spot of the top layer of blankets and she internally snickered. It was like an obsession of his, to make things perfectly aligned and in place. He was the 'woman' of the house when it came to cleaning. Most of the times. Victor was also a neat freak.

She also blushed, the warmth of his hand present even under all the layers. _God_...

He left his hand on her calf as they watched the TV - well, _he_ watched it, she was still focused on _the hand_ , because he had no concept of personal space, whatsoever - and she clenched her jaw. She looked like a giddy school girl, Jesus Christ. It'd been nearly a month since her break up and this man'd already swaggered into her life and made her feel funny.

"Hey, guys?," Victor called, walking back into the living room. "Robin's moving out."

"What?!," Killian exclaimed, sitting upright and scowling in disbelief. Emma also sat up, her own forehead marred with a frown.

"Yeah, he said he started seeing a girl a few weeks ago and now they want to move in together."

"But that's _crazy_ ," Emma said, slightly dizzy from the sudden change of angle of the world, as it was no longer tilted.

"I know."

"Did he say when?," Killian asked beside her.

"He said he was going to come get his stuff _tomorrow morning_."

They let the news sink in, the fact that Robin would be no longer be there for their morning talks and 3 am philosophies sounding near absurd. He never even told them about this girl.

"What's her name?," Emma questioned. "Did he tell you?"

"Yeah, some chick called Marian or Marianne or whatever."

The wrinkle on Killian's forehead remained there for the next two days.

 

* * *

 

" _Guys_! Guys, guys."

Emma looked up from the newspaper on the counter, her eyes studying the dark haired's cheerful face as he walked up to them.

"What?"

He looked at Victor expectantly. "Guess who's coming in two weeks?"

"Who?," the blonde man frowned.

"I said _guess_."

Victor rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I don't know, August?" He meant it as a joke, a smile on his face, but Killian didn't even blink. " _WHAT_?!"

" _August_ is coming back from Phuket in two weeks!," he exclaimed, motioning towards the phone he was holding.

"No way!" Victor hopped off his stool and went around the counter, closer to Killian. "Is he going to come back living here?"

"Hopefully," the accented said, raising an eyebrow - they had a life of their own, Jesus Christ.... "And it was perfectly timed with Robin moving out. He vacated the room, as Swan's already taken the other one. Good morning, by the way, m'lady, you look stunning," he added matter-of-factly. She blushed and ducked her head, pretending to read, when she was actually staring at the word 'farm' without blinking. _It's been happening a lot, lately... Huh_. "And he said the first thing he'd do would be buy a motorcycle."

"Why am I not surprised?," Victor wondered, his thoughtful expression quickly broken by a giant grin that settled on his lips. "If August is coming, that can only mean one thing."

"Alcohol? Yes."

Emma raised her eyebrows. Now she was curious.

 

* * *

 

"You need to be careful, love," Killian said, opening the fridge as she perched up on one of the stools. "He got a bit too drunk last night and is extremely hungover. I wouldn't bother him."

"I won't," she said, spooning the cereal she had poured and putting it in her mouth.

He hummed, grabbing a carton of orange juice and sniffing it. He flinched back. "How long have we had this?"

She just shrugged. "It's probably older than me."

"You mean older than the time you _got_ there," he corrected.

"No."

He grimaced.

Suddenly, the door at the corner of the room opened, an also stubbled dark haired - what is with that look on this house? - stumbled out of it with his hand covering his eyes.

"Oh. My. _God_. What the _hell_ did we do last night, Jones?," he groaned, resting his palm on the fridge and leaning on it, his other hand still partially covering his face.

"Morning, sunshine," Killian grinned, sipping his - now full of coffee - mug.

"Shut up," the newcomer mumbled and finally uncovered his eyes. Also blue. Were they brothers or something?

He squinted at his friend, but his eyes quickly moved to Emma, who smiled at him, amused by his state. They quickly widened. "What?"

"Hi."

" _What_?!"

"She didn't come with you, August," Killian deadpanned.

The man's shoulders immediately dropped, his eyes closing in relief. "Oh, thank God."

Emma frowned slightly, a small smile still gracing her lips. "Thanks."

His blue orbs appeared again, and he raised his hands, frantically shaking them in from of him. "No, no, no, I didn't mean _that_ ; I just--"

"She's teasing you, Booth," the lilted accent was enveloped in amusement.

August glared at the both of them. They just grinned back.

Yes, Emma was _definitely_ enjoying living there.

 

* * *

 

"You know, you should get your stuff back."

She raised an eyebrow at Killian, who was watching her as she ate her pizza. The other two pairs of eyes turned up at that.

"What? You _still_ haven't gotten everything?," Victor asked, frowning.

Emma shook her head.

"Well, _why_?," August questioned, his brow also wrinkled.

She shrugged, taking a bite of her slice. "I fear I'll just punch him in the face if I ever see him again."

She was lying. She couldn't bring herself up to his house because she feared the mere sight of him. She couldn't see him. Not after what he did three days before their three year anniversary.

"Emma, it's been nearly two months," Victor said, dropping his own slice.

"You _have_ to face him." Killian's eyes were soft and understanding. Even in so little time with him, she noticed he could read her like an open book. _Damn him._

"I don't know if I can," she said quietly, frowning at her own openness.

"Yes, you can, Emma," Victor insisted, entwining his fingers over his plate and looking at her with a supportive look. She was beginning to grow fond of him, regardless of how much of a douchebag he was.

"I mean, why wouldn't you? I've only known you for two days and I already know how badass you are," August said, amused, nonchalantly biting his slice. Emma smiled up at him gratefully.

Should she do it?

"Stop overthinking it, love." Damn it, Jones. "You'll do just fine."

 _Okay_. She was _really_ gonna do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sort of a filler chapter, but it's always good to have something to read. I say that from my own experience. 
> 
> By the way, I think we can all say we've just wON AT LIFE BECAUSE CAPTAIN SWAN FRICKITY FRACKITING NAILED AT OTPING TONIGHT.

Emma heard the knock on the front door from her bedroom. Looking up from her laptop, she got up from the bed and outed the room, surprised to see Killian opening the door. On the other side, was Ruby.

"Er... May I help you?"

"Yeah, actually. You're making her do stuff related to her love life. That's my job." 

 _Ugh_. Killian frowned, lost. "Her...?" Then realisation took his features, his shoulders relaxing. "Emma, you mean?"

Emma blushed at the feeling of fluttering in her stomach. She rarely heard him say her first name and she didn't exactly _dislike_ the way the two syllables sounded _marvellous_ enveloped in his lilted accent.

At the mention of her, Ruby sauntered into the house, briefly studying the environment before looking around for Emma. The blonde stepped into the living room. "Hi, Ruby. What are you doing here?"

"Requiring exclusivity," she replied, a mock-hurt look on her face. Emma raised an eyebrow. "I am your best girlfriend, _I_ should be the one to give you advices related to your love life, not the guys you started living with a couple of months ago."

Killian tried to look offended, but Emma could easily notice he was enjoying their bantering. " _Excuse me_ , lass, I've been called a great love advisor."

Ruby rolled her eyes. _Nice first impression, Jones._

"What's all that noise about?" The voice came right before the owner, who was Victor, his door yanking open and his head poking through it.

Ruby turned her head around to look at him with an unimpressed look and Emma could almost see Whale's jaw _drop_ uselessly to the ground.

Ruby had always been pretty. During their teenage years, Emma felt grateful and jealous - grateful to have such a good friend but jealous of her almost always _impeccable_ look -. When an agent had asked her to become a model around the time they were fifteen, Emma was fully supportive of her friend. It had been a bit tough at first, Ruby being an introvert and slightly shy, but the little extroverted part in her suddenly _boomed_ itself to the outside and covered her with sass and confidence. Ruby was definitely one of the reasons why Emma was known to all as tough and badass: she was a sort of a role model.

Ruby helped her get into shape, win and lose guys, tricks and treats to all men and basically created who Emma was now. She once called her her 'finest work'.

So yeah, it wasn't a surprise at all a cocky, bold, womaniser guy like Whale found Ruby downright irresistible.

"What do we have here?," Victor wondered, swagging out of his room with an eyebrow raised, his eyes roaming over Ruby's body - mainly her bare legs. Emma gave her that dress.

"A jerk, apparently," she replied. Emma's always loved Ruby's bite and wit.

Whale was apparently taken aback by her quick snark, but recovered in less than three seconds. "Who might _you_  be?" He was still speaking in that supposedly sexy tone, but it only made him sound like an idiot.

Ruby turned to her. " _Emma_ ," she whined.

"Victor, this is my best friend Ruby. Don't be a douchebag."

"Oh, the model?" Emma saw Killian drop his face into his hand, apparently disappointed at his friend's approach.

"Why did you tell him I was a model?," Ruby asked her, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I actually told him _once_ while they chose if I would live here or not," Emma informed her. "I'm impressed he remembers it."

"Whale will remember your five credit cards' numbers if it means he's going out with you...," Killian said, walking past them and dropping to the couch.

"Emma, your bedroom, girl talk, _now_."

Ruby trotted into Emma's room and the latter quickly followed. _Girl talk_ meant long time wasted. Not that she was doing much. The brunette fell on the bed on her back and stared at the ceiling before speaking up.

"Two things: a) you have a jerk for a roommate."

"I know."

"B) you have a model for a roommate."

"What?"

"Come _on_!" She sat up.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the hottie that opened the door. Why didn't you tell me there was a _god_ living inside these walls?"

"Because he's not a god _or_ a model."

"No way."

"Yeah, he's actually a bartender. How _hot_ is that?," she deadpanned, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"It's actually pretty hot," Ruby replied, raising an eyebrow. "He can get you drunk anytime he wants."

"He's apparently not the kind of guy who gets girls drunk to get laid. Most of them are sober when they enter the house."

"Most of them?"

"Yeah, he brings a girl home most nights."

"Is that _jealously_ I hear?"

 _Probably_. "What? No."

"Emma, for someone so good in spotting a lie, you suck at doing it yourself."

"Shut up, Ruby, you don't know what you're saying."

"Ugh, _fine_ , don't admit it. But it won't be my fault when you drop to tears because you can't have him."

"Yeah, because that happens often, right?" The sarcasm was so present it could be cut with a knife. Kind of.

With one more eye roll, Ruby stormed out of the bedroom, dropping to the couch before anyone objected it. The fact that Victor was in the room and Ruby's dress ended around her mid thigh almost made Emma forget the little tête-à-tête as she worried for her friend's sake. You could say Victor was the worst kind of womaniser ever.

He was a cryptic person too. It was like he had various kinds of personality: he was a womaniser with any attractive lady that crossed his path, surprisingly attentive doctor at the hospital where he worked, mysterious towards his past and a douchebag just most of the time. Emma was impressed.

August wasn't _as_ cryptic, but he surely was complicated. He went to Phuket in the first place to seek inspiration, as per his writer profession must enforce. He had a new idea about a similar concept to Pinocchio and ' _what if he was actually a human to everyone but still a wooden person to himself? What if it happened because he was the only one who believed in magic?!_ ' sort of thing, so she accidentally dazed off for a second or a dozen when he talked about it. But he was, without a doubt, the brain and the consciousness of their tiny group. He was the one to interrupt arguments, he was the one to glare when one started picking on another. He was the father of the loft.

Killian, however... He was different. He was a different kind of human being. Mostly his usual flirty, witty self, but sometimes sympathetic and soft, as in understanding and comprehending. Killian confused Emma. He would normally wink at her or wiggle his eyebrows or just stare in ways that made her stomach drop or her face blush, not to count with the raced heartbeat. But he sometimes looked at her as if he was studying her, as if there was something extremely interesting written all over her body and he loved to reread it. His eyes would always soften as he buried himself in his thoughts, apparently oblivious to his eyes on her.

She always chose to ignore.

And she would always fail.

"Swan?" She hear the call from the kitchen and didn't even need to take a glance at Ruby to know she was discreetly grinning. Shaking her head, she stomped towards the voice, impatiently huffing at the sight of his shoulder as he dug his head into the fridge. "Did we do the groceries?," he asked her, poking his head out of the fridge to look at her.

"No, you said Victor was gonna do it."

As if rehearsed, both sets of eyes fixed on the blonde mop of hair sitting beside Ruby.

Emma couldn't believe her eyes.

Ruby was smiling. Actually, genuinely _smiling_. And Victor didn't seem to be flirting, the tugging at the corners of his mouth soft and sweet as he gazed at Ruby's face.

_Appears one more man's fallen under her mesmerising spell..._

He seemed to look at her with adoration and delight as she apparently told him about the trip she made a few months earlier to the mountains - Emma recognised it when Ruby gestured up and simulated her grandmother's enraged yelling for her to go inside the cabin they'd rented for the night because she had been sure she'd seen a wolf.

August would relate them to Little Red Riding Hood and her granny. But he would probably add a twist, like Little Red Riding Hood actually being the wolf and/or killing her boyfriend, or something. Maybe he'd even suggest Granny was a wolf too. Emma nearly chuckled at the thought.

She glanced back at Killian with a frown, confused by their friends' bonding time. He only shrugged, walking to the farther counter and grabbing his car keys.

"Where are you going?," she asked him, stepping aside so he could pass by her.

" _We_ are going to get groceries," he replied simply, lightly taking her elbow and ushering her outside. They only stopped once because they realised she was in her slippers - she got in to change them into leather boots - and then, only then, followed their way into Killian's car.

The ride to the grocery store was filled with assumptions and speculations of what was going to happen between Victor and Ruby. They ended up betting they would hook up in less than two months.

("Those are easy twenty bucks, Jones. Are you sure you want to make this bet?"

"Not a doubt. They're just bonding because that's what people _do_ when they meet."

"Uh-huh.")

As they exited the car, they felt thick drops of water coming down from the sky and had to run to the door of the store before they got soaked ("I wouldn't despair if your shirt accidentally got wet, love.").

"Did you bring the list?," she asked him, already stretching out a hand.

He scratched behind his ear. "No?"

"What?"

"We left the house in a hurry!"

"You literally grabbed me and pulled me until we got to the car."

Her breath hitched when he suddenly leaned forward, his face closer to hers. _Personal space, personal space, personal space. Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries._ "If I ever actually grabbed you, love, you'd feel it."

That shouldn't sound so suggestive - or should it? She didn't even know anymore - but it sure as hell sounded sinful, mainly if added with the lip lick that followed. _What a bastard._

She swallowed and gazed into his eyes, trying to focus on getting away and stepping back because he lived with her and she shouldn't keep having those kind of thoughts. But it was difficult. His eyes were so intense and deep and just _Jesus Christ, how are they so blue?_

Finally snapping out of her internal reverie, she stepped back and cleared her throat. _Way to make it not look awkward as shit..._ "Okay, we'll see if we can just remember it." She just wished her voice hasn't come out so breathy. _Damn it..._

He nodded, swallowing soundly - _aha_ \- and looking around. "I am almost sure we need eggs."

"Almost?," she raised an eyebrow.

He smirked at her. "Almost."

 

* * *

 

"Are you kidding me?," she asked, horrified.

"What is wrong, Swan?," he pleaded for the third time, gesticulating towards the cart.

"We do _not_ need five big boxes of poptarts."

"You said you loved them!," he insisted.

"I said I _liked_ them," she corrected.

"But I _see_ how you love them," he said, smugly.

He was right. Poptarts were definitely one of her favourite things. "Fine, I love them, but those are _large_ boxes, Jones. I don't love them enough."

He laughed at her scandalised expression and took three of the boxes out of the cart, proceeding to push it along the aisle, Emma quickly snapping out of her daze the dashing smile stretching on his lips caused and falling into step beside him.

She chose to ignore the old lady behind them _and_ the cashier smiling sweetly at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess we all saw that coming.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've settled for a schedule because I always feel guilty when I take too long. Hopefully this one'll last. 
> 
> GUYS. IM SO HAPPY THIS IS JUST FLOWING OUT OF ME. IM LITERALLY TWO CHAPTERS AHEAD.

The next day, they were all huddled up in Emma's bug. She was driving, Killian was in the passenger seat and August, Victor and Ruby in the backseat. The latter's grimace stayed on her face for at least ten minutes after she found out Victor was pressed up against her ("Take your hand off my leg, please." "I have no idea what you're talking about." "I can always chop it off.") and August had a permanent calculating face.

"Why is _Jones_ in the front?," he finally asked, perching up on his seat, squishing Victor and Ruby even more together, making Ruby groan in the most non-sexual way and Victor to raise an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?," Emma asked him. 

"He could be here being pressed against a window; _why_ isn't he?"

"Because he got in the car first," Victor muttered out, annoyance clear in his tone.

_Babies..._

After about thirteen turns - she counted - they reached Neal's street.

"You ready, Ems?," Ruby's voice rang in her ears, and she shook her head.

"Not really, but what the hell."

It took them five minutes to make her stop in front of the house, every time she approached the sidewalk making her panic and stomp on the accelerator. She didn't even know why it was so hard.

"Gently take your feet off the pedals, now, love."

She glared at him and fiercely opened the door. At some point during her turns, _something_ had snapped inside of her. That flash of anger and fire she felt when that girl came from the kitchen in her underwear. She was doing it. She was getting her stuff back.

Stomping towards the door, kicking little pebbles she found on the way, she didn't even look back at the car. When she reached the doorstep, she clenched her jaw and banged on the door. She had to hold herself to not kick it down and _strangle_ Neal right then.

She held her breath when she heard the soft padding inside, a throat clearing and a cough. Suddenly, his face appeared.

 _Neal_.

"Ems," he exclaimed.

"I want my stuff back, Neal," she said firmly.

"What?"

"I came to get my things."

"Why?"

"' _Why?_ '? They're _my_ things, Neal!"

"I thought you'd taken everything you needed when you burst out the door." He sounded confused. And to know she once felt her stomach turn in adoration when those brown eyes fixed on her. She couldn't even see it now.

"I did. But now I want the stuff I _want_. Like... My TV." _Dumb example, but let's go._

"What?," he repeated, sounding a bit more alarmed.

"I want my TV back."

"Ems, that is _our_ TV," he said, stepping forward.

"No, Neal. It's _my_ TV. _I_ bought it. Now let me in."

"Wh-- _Emma_!"

She didn't need to hear the rest of it, she shoved him aside, stomping into the house and striding to their bedroom. Her heart broke a little more to see most of her clothes in a _pile_ next to their - _his_ \- dresser. She grabbed the biggest bags she could find and started tucking any clothes she could find into them, throwing a shirt she knew was Neal's at his face when he burst in the door.

"Emma! Babe, don't do this."

 _'Babe'?_ Was he really trying to play _that_ card? After all he'd done?

"Don't 'babe' me, Neal! You were the one who caused this. This," she motioned to the whole room. "This is _your_ fault."

His eyes didn't even look that broken. Not even Killian's were that indifferent. And it had been a year since his breakup.

Killian. Why was she thinking of him _now_?

Shoving that thought to a deep corner of her mind, she continued grabbing her things from little corners of the room, putting them in more and more bags. By the end of short seven minutes, she already had five handbags and one travel bag, all full of clothes and other items.

She managed to hold all of them in her arms, somehow, and stumbled down the stairs and out of the door. She could see August tapping Victor's shoulder and the latter's eyes widening. She could hear Neal's footsteps behind her inside the house, so she picked up her pace and reached the car, thankful to see everyone out and stretching to grab the bags. They wouldn't all fit in her trunk, for sure. They'd find a way.

Until a thought came to her.

"Guys?" They all turned to her small voice. "There's a TV inside. Could you grab it?"

"On it," Victor said, snapping his fingers and pointing them at her. Looking expectantly at a hesitating August and a troubled looking Killian, they all strode towards the house, right as Neal walked out of it. He stopped dead on his tracks, as did her roommates.

"Who the hell are these people?," he asked, an angry frown in his forehead.

"These are my roommates. And they're getting my TV back."

As if it had been a order, the guys resumed their walking, passing straight by Neal - Killian bumping his shoulder hard with the former's - and disappeared into the house. She couldn't keep the tiny smile for stretching on her lips.

She also didn't miss the muttered ' _asshole_ ' from Ruby's mouth as she tucked all the bags she couldn't into the bug's truck.

"Emma, you can't do this."

"Oh, can't I?," she said, stomping - she was doing a lot of that today - towards him. "Watch me."

The guys' perfect timing showed itself right then, their quietly growled ' _pivot_ 's and ' _stop, stop, sto-- WHALE!_ ' catching both their attentions.

The TV was a flat screen she had bought with her own money two years before. It used to be in their living room, where they snuggled up and watched movies or cursed the football players together. Now, its place was the guys' loft.

"Okay, uh, Emma?," she heard August call her. "Were are we going to take this?"

"I'm sure we'll manage it," Ruby said from the spot where she leaned on the car.

As they settled everything, Emma stood behind, watching as Neal studied all their moves.

"It's over, Neal," she concluded, catching his full attentions once more. "I devoted three years of my life to you, and I'm sure you did devote at least a few months of yours to me... But I'm done."

"Done?" He sounded confused. _What a retard..._

"Yes, Neal, _done_. I can't really say you're single, though. You have someone to warm your bed tonight. But I honestly pity her."

He finally looked hurt. _Good_. "Tamara doesn't--"

"I don't care who she is or what she does or doesn't. I'm done," she repeated, taking a step back. "Hope I never see you again."

She walked back to the car, where only Victor was outside, worriedly watching their little exchange. She passed by him and saw him perch up. _What...?_

"Asshole."

She didn't even try to hide the smile that followed.

 

* * *

  

"Kryptonite? That's your excuse?"

"Yes. Just like August's is his writing and Victor's is... Wait... What _is_  Victor's?" Killian turned on the couch, looking at the mentioned man at the table. "What's your Kryptonite, mate?"

"Probably abstinence...," August muttered from his spot next to Emma, making the latter chuckle.

"Emma, you still haven't gotten me your friend's contact," the blonde man in question pointed out, not lifting his eyes from the phone.

"That's because I don't want you virtually stalking her."

"Come on, Emma, all I need is her last name."

"No, Whale."

"But Emma--"

"Cut it out, man, you're not getting her," August finished, lifting his eyes from their brand new - kind of - TV.

"Shut up, Booth; go write your fables," Victor snarked, annoyed.

"Fantastical tales, and no, it's getting irritating."

"You write about fairy tales?," Emma asked him, suddenly interested, for some reason. She was always so deep in her thoughts whenever he started talking about it, she only thought he liked Pinocchio.

"Sort of."

"Yes," Killian corrected, switching the channel.

August glared at him. "I write new versions of them, or twists in the original stories. I'm planning something big for the future."

"What?"

"Let's just say it's very confusing," he laughed, crossing his arms.

Emma smiled fondly, looking at the three men that were now a part of her life. They were like her big brothers.

 _Except for Killian_ , a voice that sounded an awful lot like Ruby's chimed in her head.

_Shut up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooohohohookay, next chapter and the one after should be interesting *laughs evilly*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooooohohoho okay, so, I'm at a school thing where we actually sleep here, and it's really really really tiring but fun at the same time so yay. But yeah, school won't give the students the wifi password, so this chapter's been brought to you by my shitty 3G

"Do I _really_ have to go?," she whined, not taking her eyes off the TV. She had come back late last night for a 'date' with a perp and had to _run_  in heels. She should be awarded with three buckets of rocky road, not a _wedding_. Specially not a wedding she would have to pretend to be in a relationship with one of her roommates. 

"Please, Emma," Victor begged, kneeling next to her and joining his hands.

"Why is it so crucial that I go?," she asked, sitting up and staring at him and August in disbelief.

"Because it's obvious that Killian is not over Milah," the latter replied, looking at Killian's door over his shoulder.

Emma frowned. "Milah? Is it _her_ wedding?" _Didn't they break up a year ago?_

"No. But she will be there. And that is what worries us."

"Please, Emma," Victor pleaded again, his eyes wide. _Wow, this is actually serious._ "We care too much about him to let him drown his sorrows in a gazillion glasses of wine and ruin the party, which I am sure is something that will happen if you don't go."

"Can't you just ask someone else?," she asked quietly, muting the TV.

"We don't really have many lady friends," August said, scratching his neck. "The ones we _have_...," he gestures between Victor and himself. "Well, the ones we have hate him for not calling the next day."

Emma grimaced. She considered the ' _pros and cons_ ', following Killian's example from the day they met - _Why do I even remember that?_ : Pros: she's going to help a friend. Cons: she would be completely screwed because of the constant stomach fluttering and heating cheeks. Pros: she would get to spend a few hours with a person who was honestly incredible. Cons: she would get to act couple-y with him and certainly have her hopes crushed when they got home and he bid her goodnight with a ' _thank you_ ' from five feet away from her and a nod of his head. _Ugh_.

She sighed. "Fine."

Victor rose to his feet, a smile on his lips. "Great. I'll tell the Brit." And, with that, he strode to Killian's door and barged in. She heard a muffled ' _Knock, Whale..._ ' as the door closed and she slumped on her seat.

August dropped next to her. She was truly impressed at how his presence was always comforting, as if he were family. Even Victor elicited that feeling in her sometimes.

She couldn't possibly feel that towards Killian. All she felt when she stood near him was nervous and warm. Comfortable, yes; when she talked to him, she didn't have to worry about him misunderstanding something or misreading it - he could read her like an 'open book' -, but still, she sometimes couldn't stop her mind from wandering to how his mouth moved when he spoke or how blue his eyes were or how he scratched the spot behind his ear when he was nervous or chipper.

She had dazed off and didn't even realise August had said something. "What?"

She could see he was trying to hide his smile, the bastard. "The wedding. It'll be next week. Do you have clothes?"

 

* * *

 

"What about this?"

"It's a wedding, Swan, not a bar."

She rolled her eyes and looked down at the leather dress. It wasn't even close to slutty, but sure, you could consider it not proper for a wedding.

"I'm running out of options here, guys."

"Just put what you think it's appropriate," August said, rubbing his temples. "I'm the usher, I need to have nicely clothed company."

" _You need to calm down_ ," Victor said from the living room as he did something Emma still didn't know.

Killian chuckled. "We know you can do it." She tried to ignore how his eyes told her the same.

With a sigh, she went back into the closet and looked around the options. Until she saw it. Tilting her head, she grabbed it and changed into it. The dress wasn't new; she hadn't used it in a while, but it was surprisingly 'appropriate'.

Outing the space, she watched as August sighed a relieved ' _finally_ ' and Killian's jaw dropped. She felt specially satisfied with the latter.

"Is this _appropriate_ , Booth?," she asked impatiently.

"Very." He got up, buttoning his suit and walked around the bed. "I wonder why you didn't try it before...," he grumbled before he exited the room.

It was only then she realised she was alone with a still staring Killian. "What?"

He blinked, as if her voice had snapped him out of his thoughts and gave her a little smirk. "You look stunning, Swan."

She couldn't stop the smile from creeping to her lips. She was wearing the light-pink dress with a flowy skirt and a wide v-neckline. The skirt ended just below the knees and she was glad to see the material was still as silky as the day she bought it. She also decided to let her hair loose, the waves tumbling down her back and a part of the front locks pinned to the side of her head.

"Is that my hair-gel?"

Both their heads snapped to the side as Victor poked his head into the room. He looked at Killian in disbelief. The latter just grinned. "It is."

"Why would you take my hair-gel? You know it's only for urgent matters."

"It was an urgent matter, Whale. You know my hair can't stay down in one position only."

Victor glanced up at Emma, his eyes still showing the skepticism towards Killian's reply, but they soon softened as they widened. "Emma, you look _great_!"

"Thank you," she blushed, ducking her head as she pretended to straighten a spot of the skirt. She wasn't used to that many eyes intently watching and studying her at the same time and still not meaning anything else than just _evaluate_ her look.

"Okay, guys, now hurry; we leave in ten," August's head popped up next to Victor's.

Rolling her eyes, Emma entered the closet to grab a pair of heels - _ugh_ \- and sat on the bed next to Killian - trying to ignore how warm he always seemed to be. Also how their shoulders brushed and how that made her feel like a giddy school girl again.

"How do you walk in these?," he asked her, frowning at the nude coloured shoes.

"I don't know, we just do." She finished tightening the tiny buckles and got up, adjusting the position of her feet in the shoe by forcing them onto the ground and making Killian grimace.

"They just look _really_ uncomfortable."

She laughed humourlessly and she cursed herself for sounding so breathy. Not that it was a new thing anyway; it always happened more and more as she talked to him alone. "They are."

He chuckled and got up, holding the door opened for her - she couldn't stop the frown marring her forehead because it was her _bedroom door_ \- and striding to the nearest armchair, grabbing the suit jacket that was slouched over it and throwing it over his shoulders - she also chose to not notice how hot that looked for a moment and damned be Ruby and her never ending suggestions.

"Okay, okay, okay, okay. Now let's go." August pushed them out of the door and hit his head on the wall repeatedly as Victor hopped out of the elevator to grab his phone he forgot on his bedside table.

For some reason, she had mixed feelings about the whole thing.

 

* * *

 

They had arrived at the place less than half an hour before and the wedding hadn't started yet. They decided to head to their seats right after they got there, and were pleased to see they were already partially full.

They sat down, Emma between Victor and Killian, as August battled the title of usher with a twelve year old she didn't know.

"Guys," Whale called, and both their heads turned. "It would be cool if you just started acting like a real couple now," he said, pursing his lips.

 _Right, that_. She had thought _a lot_ about that the night before. Her skin always tingled whenever his fingers _grazed_ her arm or if any other patch of his skin touched hers. She was absolutely terrified of what holding his hand would feel like.

_Ugh, get a grip, Emma. Stop being ridiculous._

Killian had long stopped looking at Victor and was staring straight ahead. She didn't miss the muscle of his jaw flexing several times.

Without previous warning, she felt his fingers entwine with hers and she was absolutely right in fearing it. The jolt ran up her arm and her spine, making her shiver slightly and clench her own jaw. _Jesus..._ Unconsciously giving his hand a squeeze, she repressed a sigh at how his shoulders seemed to relax.

"How exactly is this Milah's appearance?," she asked him, leaning a bit closer to his ear so only he would hear it.

"She had a long curly dark hair the last time I saw her. Blue eyes."

"Naturally curly?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because I think she's heading over."

His shoulders tensed again and she instinctively rubbed tiny circles with her thumb on the back of his hand. Didn't work. She could see he was trying hard not to turn around at the definitely correct form coming from behind them.

"Just pretend you're having fun," she suggested, and he looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Can you give me a reason to?" She obviously didn't stare back at his blue-bluer-than-blue blue eyes as if her life depended on it.

She took the breath to talk but was shortly interrupted. " _Killian!_ "

_Here we go..._

His jaw clenched one more time before he put on a fake smile and looked up at the woman. "Milah, hi."

She blinked at the both of them, her eyes - the were really blue too; what the hell was with the people around her? - travelling from both their faces to their joined hands and, finally, to the 'oblivious' Victor next to them. "Uh..."

"Er, Milah, I'd like to introduce you to Emma. Emma, this is my, uh, _ex_ girlfriend, Milah."

Let's play the dumb blonde, shall we? "I'm sorry, _Mila_?"

The brunette licked her lips. "N-- Milah."

"Mi-lah," Emma said slowly, as if teaching a child how to speak, not even bothering to hide her smile. "Got it."

"So, Killian, how've you been?"

"I've been great," he answered, his acting surprisingly believable as he looked adoringly at Emma.

Milah hummed. "How's work?," she asked, clearly not wanting to touch the subject of his current love life.

He shrugged, making Emma discreetly enough snuggle closer to him, fully leaning onto his side now. "Same as always. Still working at the bar."

"How's Robin?"

"Robin moved out about a month and a half ago right after Emma moved in. Coincidently enough, August there came back from his spiritual finding in Thailand a couple of weeks later."

She loved how he nonchalantly mentioned her moving in and certainly loved the slight part of Milah's lips after he did.

"So, how long have you two been dating?"

 _Aha, there it is_. Luckily, Victor decided to chime in right as Emma tapped four times her thumb on Killian's hand. "Is it really that obvious?," he joked, an eyebrow raised as a smile settled on his lips.

Milah's lips tugged at the corners, but it didn't reach her eyes. She quickly glanced back at the couple, nearly ignoring Victor.

"Four months," Killian answered, and she meant four weeks, _damn it..._

The brunette's eyes widened. "Four months?"

"Yeah," Emma confirmed, looking at him and trying to picture a chocolate cake all over his face so the smile could be _genuine_. Not that she would need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOOOOokay, I really think this story will last long omg


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've literally just realised I stall so much in this particular story. I'm ashamed. Well. No. Not really. Cause details, right? Right. Hey. Hey hey. Hey. Reader. Here. Yeah you. Happy April 2nd, hope you survived stupid jokes and puns everywhere.

Right after Milah left - slightly stomping back to the seat at the bride's side -, Killian's shoulders sagged. 

"You should win an Oscar," she teased, even though his acting was _pretty damn good._

He chuckled. "Likewise, lass. Looks like we both need cameos in TV."

"Why _cameos_?"

"'Cause they're normally the best actors."

"Uh huh."

"You were both great, she was angry and you both should very well continue it because she's _still_ looking," Victor said under one single breath.

She saw Killian's head turn slightly to the side, and did the same. Indeed, Milah was talking to someone who had their back to them, but her eyes kept darting over the person's shoulder and set on them. Emma looked back to the front rows and made a decision. She laid her head on his shoulder.

"Yes, that's good," Victor, muttered, suddenly getting up. "I'll go get Booth; he should be done with his ushering experience now."

Emma chuckled and was surprised that Killian's face didn't even flinch. He didn't even seem to be aware of his surroundings. "Jones?," she called softly. He didn't move. " _Killian_."

He blinked a few times and looked at her.

"You okay?"

He clenched his jaw - again, _Jesus_ \- and nodded stiffly. She raised an eyebrow at him, because he was just not a good liar. With a sigh, he looked down. "Alright, I'm not."

"What's wrong? Is it just the fact that she's here or the fact that she didn't ask much about your love life?" She couldn't stop the grin as she spoke the last part.

He smiled too, but it didn't reach his eyes and Emma felt a little tug in her heart to see him so distraught.

"You've got to admit, though," she continued before he spoke up. "It was pretty satisfying to see her face."

He genuinely chuckled then and she felt proud of herself. "Aye, love, it was."

She lifted her other hand to rest on his arm and laid her head on his shoulder again.

At least she _tried_ to lighten the mood.

 

* * *

 

"Well, that was extremely boring," Victor breathed out as they sat on their table. The space around them was starting to fill with the invitees and the music was already playing.

"Shut it, Frankie," Victor frowned.

"I'm sorry, ' _Frankie_ '?," Emma asked, raising an eyebrow.

August waved it away. "He's as obsessed with Frankenstein's story as I am with Pinocchio's. It helps that both's first names are _Victor_."

"Booth, you're being protective over a wedding," 'Frankie' said, leaning forward on the table. "And it's just because you're one of the ushers."

"I'm _the_ usher, Whale," August corrected. "That _child_ is the _alternative_ usher."

"And yet he can be better than you."

"Now, _listen here_ \--"

"Okay, guys," Emma interrupted before that turned into childish battering. "Let's focus on why we're here."

"You mean the Milah situation?," August asked.

"No, she means the free bar. _Of course_ she means the Milah situation."

The dark haired glared at Victor before fixing his eyes back on Emma.

"Are you two done?" They looked guilty. _Finally_. "Now, where's Killian?"

Whale sighed. "In the bathroom. Maybe."

"He _might_ be talking to Milah, who knows?," she said, rubbing her forehead. She came all the way smoothly, she would not let everything burn to ruins after all she'd been through - read handholding, snuggling and warm smiles. It took all her self control to not actually _enjoy_  it all - because he decided to ditch their initial plan. "Whale, go check."

"Why me?," he scowled. _Oh my god..._

Rolling her eyes, she focused all her strengths in glaring at him. " _Go_."

He sighed, getting up and waking out mumbling. Shaking his head lightly, August looked at her when she dropped her forehead on her folded arms.

"Hey, don't worry. Whale's going to tear him away from her claws if he really is talking to her."

"That's not what I'm completely worried about." _Yes, it is._ "I just... I don't want it all to be in vain."

"I thought you were going to say you didn't want him to get hurt, Emma," he deadpanned, faking a startled look.

She smiled. "Yeah, there's that."

August never failed to make her smile.

After more than ten minutes with no sign of Victor nor Killian, they decided to go looking for at least one of them ("Maybe they got killed by secret agents." Eye roll.).

(When Emma got up, she reminded the misfortune of wearing heels. _Ugh_.)

She walked around the room, eyes scanning the crowd in search of a familiar face. Until she found it.

Milah was sitting at one of the tables, smiling as she talked to a man. _The_ man.

_No, no, no, no._

The back of Killian's head shook slightly as Milah laughed. _No_. Emma had to stop that or he would definitely fall under her little spell and mess everything up. The plan, Emma's sanity, himself and Victor's nerves. She took a calming breath before walking towards them.

"Hey," she greeted cheerfully as she dropped on the chair next to him. He jumped a bit at her abrupt arrival and Milah glared. She felt amused by the latter's reaction. "August was looking for you," she said, leaving out the part that she was looking too, and leaned a bit into his side, choosing to forget how comfortable his body warmth felt.

"What did he want?," he asked. But there was something wrong. He wasn't pretending to be her boyfriend like they had planned.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe some evil plot to throw that kid usher into a trashcan or something."

He chuckled - so did Milah, but hers basically screamed _'just die already'_. At least the plan was working. _Hopefully_  - and scratched behind his ear. "Great. Can you tell him I'm here and that I refuse to throw a child into a trashcan?," he chuckled, clearly attempting to pass nonchalant, but Emma knew him too well. She looked right into his eyes and saw his clear message: ' _please, leave_ '.

"I'm going to get a drink," Milah chimed in, swiftly getting up.

"Me too," Killian said, also getting up, non-intentionally pulling Emma with him.

"Killian, what about--"

"No, Emma, it's _fine_ ," he grinned at her. "We might finally have a chance to work out, and it's all thanks to you." _On no_. He held on to her upper arms, his eyes smiling at her before letting go and following his ex and probably _to be_ girlfriend. _Crap. Crap, crap, no._

But she knew Killian. She knew he wouldn't listen to her if she said she was sure Milah was going to break his heart again.

Sagging her shoulders in defeat, she went back to their table, dropping on a chair and grabbing the glass of white wine she had been sipping before and stared at it in her hands. She felt guilty.

"Did you find him?," she heard August's voice say, an antsy Victor trailing behind him.

She raised her head and looked behind her at the referred dark hair. The guys followed her look and Whale's eyes widened. "Emma, what did you do?"

"He didn't want help. I couldn't do anything."

"Everything will certainly go to hell if they get together, Emma, you do understand that, right?"

"Of course I do," she rubbed her temples. "I tried to take him away from her but he just insisted and I couldn't do anything."

Victor sighed before suddenly perching up. "Where are they going?"

Emma looked over her shoulder again and saw both Killian and Milah heading over around the corner and disappearing between laughs.

"We should follow them," August said, already getting up.

"That's what I do for a living and I don't even know what to do...," she muttered, getting up with the two of them and following the, um, couple.

They found them nearing the photobooth and tried their bests to stay hidden behind crowds. The three saw Milah pull Killian into the booth and disappeared behind the small curtain.

"This cannot be good," Victor said. "What do we do?"

"Maybe Emma could intercept and act hurt?," August suggested, and she was surprised they weren't bickering like kids.

"That's a good idea. Do it, Emma."

"But--"

"Just _do it_ ," he repeated, taking her upper arms from behind and softly pushing her despite his for voice.

She decided to not argue and just do it.

Hopefully, it would work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So most of you must've realised my updates are now on Thursdays and Sundays, in case you're not observant enough.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Happy Easter to y'all. Or like, hope you survived the horrible OUATless night if you don't celebrate Easter. Even if you do, it's just horrible. I miss new CS. 
> 
> Hey, did you see the finale pictures? Yeah, see you in hell, because I'm not alive anymore. *snickers*

Emma breathed in deeply. Her acting skills from when she was seventeen should come right out of her like... Sweat, or something that was naturally expelled from the human body. Confidently enough striding towards the booth, she stopped outside for a second in time to hear laughter and pushed the curtain aside.

" _Finally_!"

"Emma!"

"W-- I can explain."

Emma noticed the slightly hurt look in Killian's eyes before speaking again. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Why did you just walk away?"

"Em--"

"Nothing happened!," Milah continued exclaiming, partially getting out of the booth when Emma stepped back.

"And this is a _wedding_ , Killian. We should be, I don't know, dancing along with the rock songs and slow songs. We should be together." _Nice hurt eyes, Swan._

"Wh-- _No_! Nothing happened, I'm actually seeing someone!"

 _Ooh. Okay._ That couldn't be good.

She could see the exact moment Killian broke inside. "You're seeing someone?," he repeated softly, looking up at the brunette with those big sad eyes.

"Yeah-- I didn't bring him because I didn't want to hurt you; but now I know you have Emma and..." She sighed. "I should go."

Killian's shoulders sagged the last bit as he watched her leave, his eyebrows knitted together in a sad frown that made her heart ache. She didn't even know why.

She actually did.

"What have you done?," he asked quietly, his eyes still laid on the retreating form of Milah.

"I was helping you."

"You did nothing but _worsen_ things, Swan," he muttered, his right hand lifting to rub his eyes.

She felt really bad, _damn it_. "I was doing what's best for you."

"What's _best_ for me is to be with Milah!," he said, his blue orbs flashing with annoyance at her.

"She couldn't be with you either way, Jones!," she exclaimed, doing her best to not raise her voice too much. "She has a boyfriend."

He clenched his jaw, finally rising to his feet and brushing past her with a growled ' _thank you for pointing it out_ '. She followed him with her eyes, watching as he turned around the corner and disappeared. She didn't even need to see where he was going to know he was heading towards the bar.

' _We care too much about him to let him drown his sorrows in a gazillion glasses of wine and ruin the party, which I am sure is something that will happen if you don't go_ '. Victor should work as a psychic. A shitty one, but still.

Sighing, she headed back to where he and August were talking in quiet tones, the latter gesturing a lot with his hands and Victor lightly shaking his head. When they saw her coming, he was the first to nearly jump on her. "So? How did it go?"

She quickly glanced at August before fixing on Victor again. "Well, Milah's definitely not coming back." Both signed in relief. "But," she continued, making them grow wary. "He's still downing alcohol at the bar."

"What?" August leaned forward. "Why?"

"Apparently, he thinks I ruined his chance to be with her. Even though she has a boyfriend."

"Milah has a _boyfriend_?," he suddenly asked quietly. "Poor soul..."

"But you _have_ ruined it."

Emma froze at the interruption, slowly turning her eyes to Victor. "Excuse me?"

"You just ruined it all! He's going to be miserable!"

"What the hell was I supposed to do?!"

" _Not what you did_ would be the right answer," he rolled his eyes.

She huffed in disbelief, glaring at him. "You know what? I'm never doing any favours to you again." That being said, she turned around and stormed off to the main room, dropping on a chair at their table and looking around. A slow song was playing, many couples glued to each other and slowly spinning around the dance floor and many other people quietly talking about the room. She accepted the white wine glass given by one of the very few waiters walking around and sipped it.

Her shoes were killing her.

 _Screw it._ She stepped off them, lifting her feet to the nearest chair and staring into her glass. _Tonight's been chaos._

She spent about ten minutes trying to find something to do - she saw a few kids blowing bubbles and was _very_ tempted for at least three - when she saw August approaching her. He sat on the chair across her and also took off his white shoes - to match with his cream coloured suit - and pulled his feet up to the same chair as hers.

"You will have to excuse the idiots; they're too dumb to function." She smiled, glad he at least saw that too. "Look, Emma," he sighed. "It was completely wrong what they did back there. Killian knows you just wanted to help him and Whale... Even though he's one of the stupidest men I know, he knows it wasn't your fault. But they'll never admit that. _Specially_ Killian. He's too proud or too pompous or just too much of an ass to admit that he _knows_ all you did was to help him. He's had this sense of being independent and an idiot since the day I met him. So I really do think you should forgive them for being such jerks."

"I'll try."

She ducked her head and continued roaming her eyes across the room. He followed her eyes and saw how she was ogling at the children and their bubbles.

"You know," he started, pulling her attention to him. "I'll tell you something if you promise to _never_ tell Whale or Jones."

She smiled, because this could be entertaining. "Shoot."

He chuckled quietly to himself before looking up at her eyes. "I've always loved bubbles. Ever since I was little."

She giggled, imagining August, the stubbled _adult_ man, sitting on a step near the sidewalk blowing bubbles and snickering. "It's not a surprise, if I'm honest. I mean, who _doesn't_ like bubbles?"

"Maybe people whose bubbles popped near their eyes."

Emma grimaced. "True."

"So, what made you like bubbles, friend?," he asked, sitting back as if getting comfortable for a bedtime story.

"Well, besides being an universal thing, they've always been really cheap and, somedays, they were the only entertainment I had. Jumping from foster home to foster home makes you feel lonely. Makes you be lonely. So I had to improvise with the fun every child has to have."

Surprisingly enough, he didn't look pitiful or too sad. He just looked _understanding_. "I know how you feel..."

 _Aha_. "You do?"

He hummed, agreeing. "I went into the system when I was 7. My parents had always been negligent. Had the brilliant idea to run away with a few older kids and got caught a day after we left. They just took us to another foster home. I didn't jump around much, though. At the age of 11, an old man adopted me and I really do consider him my father today."

"So you were like Pinocchio and Gepetto?," she teased and he laughed, breaking the deep moment.

"Actually, one of the reasons I'm so obsessed with the story is that my father's cat at the time was called Figaro."

"So you're both obsessed?"

"You could say so."

"Guys." They looked up to Victor's wide eyes and pursed lips. Emma could help but glare at him. "We have a problem."

_Oh god._

She got up with August, both putting their shoes on - _ouch_ \- and followed Victor to the photobooth.

"Killian?," he called, his face near the closed curtain. Emma could see Killian's legs from under it.

"Go away, Whale, you're not welcome in my home," he slurred, and Emma noticed the bottle of rum that appeared next to his legs.

"Killian?," August called, lightly pushing Victor out of the way.

"August! Nice to hear your voice, mate. Unfortunately, you're _also_ not welcome."

"What about me?"

"Swan! The voice of a mermaid, as always. Alas, I need to think about it."

"You need to think about letting me into the photobooth?"

"Aye, love," he said, and the curtain moved slightly as if he'd leaned on it thinking it was a wall. "Alright, I think you can come in. Careful, there's a step in front of the door."

She quickly glanced at the two men outside and pushed the curtain to reveal the dark mop of hair and the pointed jaw. "Hey, sailor."

His head snapped up and he grinned at her, as happy as a child on Christmas, although his eyelids looked heavy. "Swan! Welcome to my humble home," he said, gesturing towards the rest of the tiny space. "Come on in, darling; make yourself at home."

She tried not to blush at how he'd called her - she failed - and stepped into the booth, feeling Killian squeeze himself more against the wall to make room for her on the small seat.

"Here's the common area, the kitchen up there in the front; a living room, bedroom, bathroom... Kind of everything," he babbled, motioning to different corners of the tight space.

She finally settled, trying to forget how warm his arm felt glued to hers and watched his face as he looked at his hands in sudden shame.

"Hey," she whispered, making him look up at her. _Wow, his eyes are really blue._ "She has a boyfriend," she pointed out, softening her eyes as much as she could. "She shouldn't be flirting with you all night."

"Aye, and I shouldn't have blamed you. You didn't do anything," he frowned, reminding her of a puppy whose toy's been taken away. 

She smiled, a little tug in her lips she couldn't and didn't want to hold back. "But now you have to make a decision. You have to end this; you have to let each other go. You can go and live in the photobooth forever and alone, or you can go to her and get this over with, and move on with your life. It's your call, Jones."

Patting his forearm, she rose to her feet again, exiting the booth and waiting outside. She heard a muffled growl, a pat and a slurred ' _love you, photobooth_ ' before he finally appeared.

With a sigh, he momentarily closed his eyes and licked his lips - she _so_ not looked. "Let's do this."

 

* * *

 

After the compulsive watching from Emma, August and Victor's part, Killian had finally said a definitive goodbye to Milah - she went for a hug and Emma could see how uncomfortable he was - and the party finally entered the peace area for them.

The only one who hadn't drunk at all because ' _I'm the usher; sobriety is a duty I have_ ' was August, so he was the one to drive them all home. "That was an interesting party, wasn't it?," he asked cheerfully, Emma nearly asleep in the backseat with her head against Killian's shoulder, the latter's eyelids heavy as he silently stared out the window, deep in drunken thoughts.

"Not that much," she hears Victor reply from the passenger seat. "I had a chance with at least _three_ women tonight, but one of them ran off crying when Killian...," he spat the name. "...decided to yell at her to leave the photobooth, the other was apparently friends with that one and went home with her and the last one was nearly passing out from drinking."

"That's bad luck, Whale," Emma commented quietly, exhaustion seeping into her. Killian chuckled lightly and she closed her eyes.

She felt warm and comfortable and safe. That was the real evidence that she was really home. And she _quite_ liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAVE WE FINALLY REACHED AN END TO THE WEDDING DRAMA OMG


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We give a big jump in the story here. I've been trying to write something in between these two points - where we left off and this chapter - but I couldnt. Too Nick and Jess to be able to turn into Killian and Emma. Oh well. T least I tried. But I do think I'll manage to _create_ some new content because let's be honest, this is the point of other fandoms AU.

Several months had passed since the wedding, and Emma couldn't help but think about how much had happened.

She had freaked out after Ruby had told her someone's feet always pointed at the person they loved - which _terrified_ her every time she talked to Killian, because his feet were always pointing at her.

Killian had gotten a girlfriend for about a month - of course she wasn't jealous, why would she be? _You can't lie to yourself, you loser_ \- before they had broken up; Emma herself had tried and failed in getting into two relationships: first there was Graham, the sweet guy she had dated for about a week and a half before creeping him out with their newly found _dead neighbour_ on Thanksgiving; then there was Jefferson, who had a 7 year old daughter called Grace, which lasted about three weeks before they realised there was no passion in their relationship.

Besides that, they'd gone through a dark week after they thought Killian had cancer. Long story.

Victor and Ruby had literally gotten together and _busy_ at some point she still couldn't mark, since they'd been secretive about their apparently constant _explicit activities._

The part that most terrified her in the whole seven months she'd been there was when Killian dove in a relationship with Milah again. They were serious about everything they said and Emma spent one night awake because she couldn't bear seeing them together. Then, they announced they were to move in together. In a new house. Killian got to pack his things and hop into the truck, but luckily, good sense came upon him and he got everyone stuck in the desert by throwing the truck's key off a cliff. _Typical_.

The night had been properly marked by the end Victor and Ruby's relationship and Killian's not moving in with Milah.

Ruby, however, got herself into the serious dating market quite fast after that. She met a guy called Archie Hopper at the bar Killian worked at and they started dating not long after. She had to admit, Emma was surprised. She never thought Archie was the kind of guy Ruby would date, with his shy manners, tiny round glasses and a long umbrella He carried everywhere.

 

* * *

 

At the start of October, Emma met a man called Walsh. Since then, they'd entered the _casual_ relationship kind of thing and, after a couple of weeks, she found herself with a problem.

She hadn't been in a relationship for four months and the possibility of being in one was attacking her. She was starting to have feelings for him.

Mary Margaret had asked her to join her in a haunted house voluntary work thing for charity on Halloween and Emma _couldn't_ resist the big green eyes her friend was giving her. She accepted it.

A week later, she managed to take Walsh to the loft and make him spend the night there.

She softly shut her door, careful not to wake him on the bed, and stepped back, just in time to see Killian exiting his own room.

" _Swan_!," he whispered, trying to keep his voice down. "Morning, love."

"Hi," she shortly greeted, her eyes widening. "Walsh's in there. I think I like him."

"Do you remember Ariel?," he asked her, and she nodded.

"That girl you said you had a crush on during college. She was supposed to be staying here, right?," she added, glancing over her shoulder to see the untouched couch.

He grinned, his eyebrows wiggling. "She is."

She frowned, working her way through his tiny riddle, and widened her eyes in realisation that Ariel girl she already wasn't very fond of was _inside_ his room. " _Really_?"

He nodded, breathing in to say something, but was shortly interrupted by his door opening, a red head wearing one of his checkered shirts over her apparently nude body. "Hi, I was wondering where you went."

 _Try to be friendly._ "Hi, I'm Emma. It's nice to finally meet you; Killian's talked about you for quite a while." _Jesus, that smile was so fake her cheeks hurt._

If Ariel noticed, she didn't show it, looking up at Killian lovingly and wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning in. "He better have." Then, she proceeded to give him the sloppiest, most _painful_ looking kiss Emma had _ever_ seen. Ariel reminded her of a fish, sucking on an aquarium's glass. She couldn't help but notice the muffled curious noises Killian made and couldn't help but wonder how was it like to kiss him.

 _Focus_.

Scowling slightly, she turned around slowly, leaving them alone.

Later that morning, as Walsh exited the loft, he grazed his fingers over her arm. "Call me tonight?" If she didn't know the situation, she would probably swoon a bit more since that sentence screamed _commitment_.

She was not up to going around the bushes. "Actually, tonight there's a haunted house thing I have to go, a sort of a Halloween carnival. Everyone's dressing up. What if you came?"

Walsh hesitated. "I'm not the costume sort of person--"

"Well, I'm dressing up, and so should you. Cause it would be... Cool," she concluded. _Not serious, not serious, you don't care about him._

"I'll do my best," he chuckled, pulling her into a fairly awkward hug, since she was trying her best not to snuggle her face into his neck and breathe in. She was _nearly_ oblivious to Killian watching from the couch.

She chuckled gamely when he did and watched him go into the elevator, shutting the door and sighing.

"Well, that was horrible," Killian commented, barely lifting his head from the couch.

"Ugh, I know...," she whined. "Do you think tonight'll be like a test?"

"What do you mean?"

"If he appears dressed up, that means he likes me too and we can carry on to a healthy proper relationship, right? If not, I'll know things are just _physical_."

"Yeah, that seems logical," he laughed. His face hardened to a serious frown not a second later. "I'm joking."

She glared at him.

So there she was, nine hours later, dressed as a terrifying zombie in front of the mirror, retouching the fake blood on her neck. It tickled.

 _Ugh_ , she was already half regretting this decision.

Putting the brush down, she walked to the living room to see the guys half dressed up already.

Victor, following his own tradition, apparently, was wearing pointy fingered gloves and an ancient looking closed grey coat, adding with the smudged dark make up around his eyes and the purposefully disheveled hair.

"Frankenstein, the doctor," Emma observed. "Cool."

She glanced at August then, not surprised at all he chose to go with Pinocchio. Brown shorts - _way_ too short, by the way -, white shirt and red suspenders.

"Are you Sponge Bob?"

He glared. "I'm _Pinocchio_."

She chuckled, eyeing the little hat he was wearing and the red circles on his cheeks. She then proceeded to look for Killian. She found him in the kitchen.

Of course he would rock _any_ outfit he wore.

He didn't really try to dress up, his black t-shirt and dark jeans, cheap pirate hat and a plastic hook dangling from his back pocket as he ate a cookie. _That should not look as attractive as it is. Damn it..._

"That's properly scary, love," he said as soon as he turned around and laid his eyes on her. "But, to be honest, I prefer the non-zombie version of you."

She couldn't help but smile. "I just spent about an hour making this face, so no one's opinion really matters."

He grinned back and her heart felt light and heavy at the same time.

 

* * *

 

"Do you think he'll come?," Emma asked after they spent about half an hour laughing at the several kinds of costumes and waiting for Walsh.

"I don't know, love. Maybe."

She sighed and looked around, her eyes searching for another something to do rather than her boyfr-- _no, wait. Casual sex partner. Yeah._ That is what Walsh was. Period.

Suddenly, she saw him in the middle of the crowd and her heart raced, hammering against her ribcage because _he came._ With a smile settling on her lips, she pushed away from their spot leaning on the wall and walking towards him. She momentarily forgot Killian was there, but was reminded as soon as she missed his body heat. Swallowing because she was confused and didn't know what to do or think, she reached Walsh. He was smiling sweetly at her, his eyes studying her make up and raising an eyebrow.

"You look properly scary," was the first thing he said, and she felt as if something was missing. The way Killian had said it sounded better.

_Killian. No. Wait. Why am I thinking of him now? No._

He leaned down to quickly press his lips against hers.

"Thank you," she replied, smiling up at him and tugging him by the hand to another corner of the open space.

Even if she was enjoying the warm feeling of his hand in hers, it still felt... _Incomplete_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll see if Killian punches Emma or not. That would be fun.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't post last Sunday, I had a little breakdown and was anything but inspired to write. I feel great now - many thanks to camphalfbloodprince for emotional support (it really helped) - and wrote this in like an hour. Posting a day earlier to make up for Sunday and will hopefully post tomorrow as per my schedule's request.

Emma got into the haunted house to meet up with mummy Mary Margaret and her living dead friend Ashley after about ten minutes talking with Walsh, his dark warm eyes contrasting to Killian's light ones and _whoa_ , why did she _always_ end up thinking of the 'scoundrel'? 

She shook her head slightly, clearing her thoughts as she helped Mary Margaret fixing the bandages covering her body - at least it was better than the toilet paper she had suggested about three days prior - and listened to Ashley's excited tale of how her baby daughter won't stop blabbering about 'doggies'. She laughed in the right moments, nodded when she had to and listened. If there was one thing he hated - more than being lied to - was not being listened. _So why being a hypocrite, right?_

"So, I was thinking and... I think I have feelings for Walsh," she told Mary Margaret, who whirled around in her spot and widened her eyes, a smile gracing her features. "And I want to tell him."

"Emma, that is a great idea!"

"Really?" _Because if it isn't, I'll blame you_. "What if he doesn't feel the same?"

"You have to think about if he _does_. Plus, who wouldn't want to be with you? You're amazing in every aspect." Emma smiled at the compliment and thanked her. "Did he come tonight?" Emma nodded. "Then, after you're done here, you'll go after him and get a boyfriend."

"The mummy is right, Emma," Ashley said, touching Emma's arm with her hand. "You'll know it's right the moment he says yes." The blue eyed suddenly stopped talking and perched up on the stool she was sitting. "I think there's someone coming."

As if they had rehearsed it a thousand times - they had actually just three -, they all rushed to their positions and waited for the group. Emma could hear the several footsteps and giggles and light screeches. She raised an eyebrow to Mary Margaret as she felt a little smile curl around her own lips. _This could actually turn out to be entertaining._

 

* * *

 

And it was. After about an hour of horrible screaming, husky growls and grumbled intelligible words, she left the haunted house for a break, her throat slightly sore but her mind light. It _had_ been fun, the times the groups of teenagers or dared young people didn't pass by them filled with laughs and tales about their every day lives.

She had missed spending time with Mary Margaret, their contact the previous months resuming to text messages and rushed phone calls.

She didn't find Walsh right away, instead spying August's tiny hat near the pumpkin carving table. She strode towards him and snatched the thing off his head, making his yelp in surprise and annoyance, jerking back after seeing her made up zombie face and slumping his shoulders in relief.

"You _need_ to take that make up off," he muttered as she sat next to him on the bench, his hand smacking hers to make her drop the hat. "And stop stealing my hats."

"I only stole _that_ hat," she scowled, pointing at it in his hands.

"Better cut off a sprout before it grows, right?"

"It was for your own good."

"I don't care," he bickered back, raising the hat to its previous spot and glaring at her. She couldn't help but chuckle at how much of a child he was. "So," he began again, with a sigh. "Are you done with the haunted house?"

"Nope, just got out for a break."

"You need a _break_?"

"Try screaming like a 90 year old dead woman for nearly an hour and say you don't need a break," she sassed.

"Alright, alright." He looked into the distance and suddenly straightened up, turning slightly to her. "Did you know Ariel came?"

"The fish?," she asked, not looking at him and grimacing.

"Is this about the way she kisses Killian?," he chuckles. "Or jealousy?"

"Excuse me?" She definitely turned to him now.

"Oh, and I'm not alone in this thought. The other day, I was talking to--"

"Ruby," Emma guessed, the answer not being exactly hard or unpredictable.

"Yeah," he confirmed and she groaned, a headache starting to form before the night even ended. She needed a drink, but she also needed to scare children in half an hour. "She said she could _feel_ it."

"Feel what?"

"The sexual tension between you two," he singsonged, an eyebrow raising. "The way you two banter like an old married couple is the best part of it all."

"We _just_ argued about your hat, Booth."

"And you've argued with him about the TV, lunch, his leather jacket and his hair. And that just today."

Emma swallowed. He was right about that one, but what did it have to do with the supposed sexual tension?

 _Everything_ , Ruby's voice sounded in her mind and she internally yelled at it.

"You're both idiots."

"Nice try, I'll not argue with you. In fact, I'll carve a pumpkin. Probably a K and an E and a heart under," he teased, and dodged the smack she reached to give him.

_What an annoying ball of childishness..._

Speaking of annoying, Killian rounded the corner and walked towards her, his hand automatically reaching for her purposefully ripped suit and adjusting the lapel. Which obviously made her flush and clench her jaw and swallow thickly because she wasn't sure if he _knew_ what he did to every woman that crossed his path. _He probably does._

"Walsh was looking for you a few minutes ago, did you talk to him?" His voice sounded a bit harsh and restrained, but she chose to ignore that.

"No, where is he?"

He hesitated before speaking. "No idea, love." _Lie. But why?_

She hummed, lightly narrowing her eyes at him and walking around him, going out and about to find the man she was hoping felt the same as she did.

When they started their... _Thing_ , or whatever, he had said it himself he wasn't looking for anything serious. He said it himself he wasn't the kind of guy who did relationships. And, to be honest, she was quite okay with that at the time, and she should be now too. But maybe... Maybe she could take a leap of faith.

She found him in less than five minutes. He was leaning against the rail that separated the street and the park, his eyes glued to his phone.

"Hey," she greeted, and he didn't even jump.

"Hey," he replied, his eyes lingering on the screen for a second before fully looking up, smile soft on his lips. "Ready to get out of here?," he said, his hand coming to grasp hers. She could see he was eager, and not just eager to leave the place, but also for the activities that would _follow_ their arrival at his place. Yeah.

"Not yet, I'm only on my break." His face dropped a bit before regaining his previous expression. "And because of other thing," she added, hesitantly.

He frowned. "What's wrong?," he asked, and her heart fluttered because _he cares._

"Walsh, I..." Just spit it out. _Like a band aid._ "I like you."

She relied herself for the grenade to explode, but it didn't. He tilted his head, his hand pulling her closer. "I like you too, Emma."

 _No_. No, he didn't. At least not like she would like him to.

"No...," she started. "I mean, I care about you." She saw his smile drop and she was already fearing the worst. "Which is why I want to ask you out. Because I _care_."

She stared into his eyes as he hesitated. And then, he sighed. "I can't..." Her heart broke, yes, but there was more, and she was sure it wouldn't mend it. "I told you what I wanted, and I still stick to that."

She made an effort not to pout as her heart dropped - already in pieces -, and she tried to speak, but feelings be damned, she wasn't like this. She was tough. She was _better_ than this, _Jesus_.

 _Apparently not._ "Do you want me to go?," she heard him ask, and couldn't do anything but nod. He threw her a sheepish face before turning his back and leaving the place.

She took a deep breath, recomposing herself, and turned around herself, urging her feet to move towards the haunted house.

 

* * *

 

Emma and the new guy - another zombie. He might've been called Walter. Or Roger. _I don't know_ \- decided that, since they had matching outfits, they could walk around the house instead of stand in the same place as the mummy and the living dead girl.

She didn't talk much, the incidents from half an hour earlier still bugging her insides, when her zombie partner poked her on her arm and nodded towards the nearest exit. She heard it too: a murmur of voices giggling and laughing and breathing hardly - probably from their last scare - coming from the next room.

They signalled in a silent agreement and went to hide in the shadows of the corridor, Emma not acting as excited as she should have when she jumped out of her spot and growled loudly at them. The girls screamed, the boys yelped and they all flinched and sprinted towards the next door. She had to be honest, it made her feel better than it should have.

She was about to relax her shoulders when an alone, adult voice reached both their ears. She didn't even have time to react before her zombie friend sprang forwards at the person who emerged from the door and shouted, a husky tone in the trained voice, which made the poor victim scream and punch dear Walter or Roger.

She also didn't have time to duck when Walter's body stumbled backwards, his fist going straight into her nose amd/or the area around. She felt the warmth spread through the area and leaned on the wall, her hand waving desperately for support as she felt the blood slowly come out of the wound. It hurt less than she expected it would when she thought of being punched in the nose, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Because it did. A _lot_.

" _Ow_ ," was her grumbled display of pain as her hand rose to cup the hopefully not broken nose, trying her best to stop the bleeding.

_That's what I call a chain effect, Jesus Christ..._

"Swan!"

 _Wait, what?_ "Killian?"

"I am so sorry, Emma," she finally heard the probably twentieth apology Walter was throwing at her, and she tried to relax when she felt the familiar warmth of Killian's hand on her arm, pulling her closer and ushering her towards the exit of the house, muttered ' _sure you're alright, love; I bet you've been through worse_ ' and ' _I still don't know if this is my fault_ , _but I am so sorry anyways_ ' flowing out of his mouth, and she would have smiled at his frantic state if she hadn't just been punched.

When they finally reached outside, August was waiting by the entry, hands fidgeting with the edge of his little hat, and gasped when caught the sight of blood. "What the hell happened?!"

"I punched a zombie dwarf and he punched Emma," Killian growled, mostly at Walter or Roger - who still followed them, his nose swelling and reddening, and all she could think was how was his nose _not_ bleeding -, but also at his own bloody knuckles, his fist clenching again as they sat Emma down on a bench.

"I'm going to grab you some paper towel," she heard Ariel's voice say - _when did she get here?_ \- before the latter's footsteps faded out.

"You okay, love?" She opened her eyes, her head still tilted back, and raised her eyebrows.

"Surprisingly, yeah. It just, you know, stings."

He chuckled. "I figured that part."

"Emma?!"

"Hey, Ruby," the blonde replied calmly, sensing her best friend's eyes on her.

"What happened?!" She was slightly desperate and Archie's voice quickly spoke in a soothing tone, as, well, _always_.

"Ruby, calm down, she's okay," he assured. "Look, the bleeding is even stopping."

"You're a _doctor_ , aren't you?," Victor said, and all Emma could think was when did he get there too.

"I'm at doctor at psychology, yes."

Victor just hummed, as if proving to Ruby Archie wasn't exactly a _doctor_ doctor, like himself.

"Whale, will you shut up and take a look at it already?," she saw August say from the corner of her eye and smiled. She liked how all of them were worried and fiery. It made her feel wanted and loved, which was rare. Very rare.

With a sigh, she felt Victor softly lift her hand from her nose to check it. She looked down and saw his focused face looking into her nostrils, and then he started to lightly pinch a few spots. A few ' _ow_ 's and jaw clenches later, he rose to his feet again.

"Yeah, no broken bones. It will, however, swell and probably change colour, so, when we get home, I'll take care of it." Emma liked his doctor self; he was definitely more of a decent person than the Whale'd Victor she spent everyday with. "Which should be now. Shall we?"

She was lightly pushed and guided to the car by more than two pairs of hands and sighed when they closed her door. She was alone in the car, the rest talking outside or walking around the car - August, obviously - to enter the driver's seat.

"You good?," he asked when he finally settled, his belt buckling apparently serving as a signal to the rest to go to their cars too or just to enter that one. She only nodded. 

The people from the loft were followed by Ruby and Archie's in his car, and it was only then when Killian tensed up and straightened his back beside her.

"What's wrong?" She could already lower her head, according to Victor, so she could see he was confused and surprised, but not worried.

"We forgot Ariel."

 

* * *

 

"He did what?!," was the first thing she heard when she told the guys as soon Ruby and Archie left, and it was surprisingly from Whale. "Jones, we are going to kill that bastard."

"Why are you acting so affected?," she asked the three of them as she plopped on the couch, closing her eyes after finally sitting somewhere still and comfy, feeling the cushions dip beside her as Killian - she smelled him, _how?_ \- took a seat.

"Because he was a jerk for not having feelings for you," August said from the kitchen, coming back with two bags of ice and a glass of milk.

She didn't know if she felt flattered or rejected. _Great_.

Pinocchio handed Killian one of the bags and the other one to Emma. She watched as Killian laid the ice over his bruised knuckles - they were worse than Emma expected. Maybe Walter or Roger had a bony face despite all the cheeks and prominent nose - and rested hers against her nose. It eased the pain a lot, but it was still there.

 _Wait_... "Is there another bruise?," she asked to no one in particular, taking the bag off her face so they could check.

"Yes, actually," August informed, leaning in a bit further to see it properly from his spot on the armchair. "On the cheekbone."

"How much damage did this accidental punch cause me, Jesus Christ...," she muttered, putting the ice bag back in an annoyed flick of her wrist.

"Come on, Swan, it's not that bad," Killian said as Victor retired to his room and August sipped his milk. "At least you didn't break anything."

"Did _you_ , though?," she suddenly asked. "I mean, that was quite a punch on the guy's face."

"I'm alright, darling."

"Yeah, but is _he_?"

He winked at her, making her almost forget about Walsh for a moment. " _Touché_."

Of course she didn't blush when he offered to hold her ice bag on her face as she toed off her boots in a weak attempt to rest her arms. Of course she didn't notice she just ended up not taking it back. Of course she didn't feel his arm around her, the position only _strategic_ to hold the bag. _Of course._

 _Not_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Killian didn't _technically_ punch Emma. But that part was fun to write.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MADE IT. I STUCK TO THE SCHEDULE. 
> 
> Hey, this chapter is long and it's just a filler. I don't really like it as much as the others, but the more I make y'all wait the guiltier I feel. And soothing doesn't help because it reminds me of how awesome you all are and it just worsens the situation. But hopefully, I'll have more patience and less stress to write next chapter - though I don't think that's gonna happen because exams next week. But also a ton of holidays here in my country, so yay.
> 
> By the way, this here took a lot more research and knowledge than you'd ever believe. You'll see why.

Emma took Ruby to the doctor. The doctor checked their uteruses. Emma found out she has a massive quantity of eggs. Ruby didn't. Ruby was worried. And then Archie said he only wanted kids in his late thirties. 

Ruby had knocked on the loft's door an hour ago and there they were, wine glasses in hand, talking about men. _Sounds productive, right?_

"I just don't understand what is their prejudice against children," Ruby whined, refilling her glass for the umpteenth time.

"It's not prejudice; they're probably just scared," Emma explained, proud of how _not_ slurred her words sounded. "It's commitment. It's depending on a relationship to maintain a child. _Anyone_ would be scared."

Ruby sighed. "I hope you're not right, or a husband hunt will be hell."

Emma chuckled, partly guilty of having enough eggs to last more fifteen years, partly sad Ruby didn't.

 

* * *

 

As the winter holidays approached, the Christmas spirit started to descend on Victor and August and the two of them set off in decorating the apartment. All Emma and Killian did to help was watch from the couch and warn them if something looked crooked or weird.

"Whale," he called, sipping his beer. "That is a _terrible_ idea."

"No, it isn't," the blonde man frowned. He then looked at her. "Emma?"

She glanced between the two of them and rose an eyebrow. "It is a terrible idea."

"Come on, guys, it's _not_! Christmas isn't actually Christmas without a Christmas party."

"Whale...," Emma started, getting up from her spot on the couch next to Killian to get her phone on the kitchen counter - why was it there anyway?

"Who are you calling?"

"Texting," Killian corrected. Emma threw him a grateful yet impatient look and went back to texting.

She sighed. "Ruby." She saw Victor straighten his back and his hands drop from his hips. "She's the only one that could possibly throw some sense into you."

"Is she coming over?," he asked, his voice surprisingly small. She still didn't know if he had gotten over their breakup, with all the girls he brought every week from the bar - alongside with Killian - and these tiny moments looking like a kicker puppy. He confused her.

"If she's willing to, yes," she answered, plopping back on the couch.

"Well played, Swan," she heard Killian mutter, obviously holding his laughter.

"Thank you."

_Well played indeed._

 

* * *

 

"That's a _great_ idea!"

"What?" The question flew out of three mouths, a cheer from another and nothing from the one remaining.

"Ruby--," Emma started, but was cut off short by Victor.

"I told you!"

" _Why_ do you think that would be a good idea?," August asked, and Emma was thankful he also didn't think this was genius.

"Do you even know me?," she sassed back, and Victor chuckled smugly.

"You know what?," Killian said, finally getting up from his place on the couch and joining them near the dining table. "Let's have a party."

"Wh-- You traitor!," August accused, and Emma chuckled, still mostly angry at Killian for giving in.

"No, wait," he interrupted. "We'll have the party and it will be chaos. Then they'll see how bad of an idea it was and are never going to ask again."

"Unlikely."

"Not gonna happen."

"It's actually impossible."

"Okay," he raised an eyebrow. "They won't ask for a while."

"That's more plausible," Emma muttered, and dropped on a chair. "I'm not planning this."

"No problem," Ruby chimed in. "I will. Let the Christmas spirit fill you in, people."

"There's still two weeks left, Ruby," she complained, rubbing her forehead and already fearing the disaster she could feel would happen.

"Never too soon to start preparing, Ems," the brunette replied, dropping her bag on the couch and taking out her phone. "Who do you want to invite?," she then asked, more to Victor than to anyone else in the room.

"I want to invite Tink."

All the murmur that had just started silenced at Killian's statement.

"Who's Tink?," Emma couldn't help but ask.

"It's this girl he met at the bar a couple days ago," August informed, and, though he was trying to look cheerful about it, Emma noticed the little frown on his forehead. "I didn't know you were aiming for the serious stuff."

Killian smiled, as if remembering the girl. "Aye, well, me neither. But we met again yesterday and I just... I don't know, I sort of feel good around her."

Emma also couldn't help but feel a little pang of jealousy in her chest, that weird feeling that made you want to storm off and stare into the wall. She supposed it was okay; maybe she would feel it any time August or Victor thought they found someone special. They were like her brothers, right? _Exactly. No biggie._

Victor narrowed his eyes. "She's amazing in bed, right?"

"Yeah," Killian scoffed. "But it's more than that. For once," he added.

Ruby made an impatient sound. "You guys are disgusting. Anyway, it's four pm, I'm tired because of the argument after argument with my grandmother. People, think of something that could distract us from stress, _please_."

"True American."

All looks turned to August.

"What?," Emma asked. That sounded like a weird beer name or an insurance company.

"True American." He then frowned, glancing between Killian and Victor. "She's lived here for more than half a year and we _haven't_ played True American?"

"I'm sorry, ' _played_ '?," Ruby asked. "Is it some kind of game?"

"Oh, no, dear," Victor chuckled, making Ruby grimace at the nickname. "True American... It's serious stuff." _This looks more and more like a TV commercial._ "August, will you please lay out the rules?"

The blue eyed raised an eyebrow and sighed. "So, the True American is a drinking game. We've played it since we moved here."

"But wait, Killian isn't a true American," Emma quipped, pointing at the dark haired standing next to her with his arms crossed.

"Yeah, but he surprisingly knows more about American history than us," he said, annoyed. "He's lived here for _nine years_ and he knows more about my country than I do. That's _shameful_."

"So it's an educational game... But with alcohol?," Ruby wondered.

"Not really. It's like 50% drinking game, 50% life-size Candy Land."

"Well, it's more like 75 drinking, 20 Candy Land, and by the way the floor is molten lava," Victor chirped in, scratching his chin.

"It's actually 90% drinking and then it's got a loose Candy Land-like structure to it," Killian concluded.

"Yes, well, let me explain," August said, motioning to the couch. As everyone sat down, he began speaking. "Well, the winning of True American consists on a liquor bottle - we'll choose which liquor later -. Protecting that liquor, there are a ton of beer cans that we have to drink. There are four zones and an alternate zone is a 'crazy' zone. There will be a trail of chairs, cushions, tables and etc through the zones. You must use these objects to traverse the zones without stepping in the lava. The Castle is in the middle of the zones. " He pointed at the table. "That will be our castle. The beer cans - let's call them Pawns - will be arranged in a big X, and, in the center, the liquor bottle - aka the King, yeah."

"This is very elaborate," Ruby commented, but there was absolutely no disapproving tone in her voice.

"Yeah," Victor answered.

"Basically, what we have to do is drink all the beers and, whoever gets to the King first, wins."

"But why is it such a great game as your faces tell me it is?," Emma asked, eyeing each of the guys faces and seeing their excitement.

"Okay, one: we haven't played this in _ages_ and I miss it," Victor chimed in, raising a finger. "Two: the point of the whole thing is to get so drunk that, after a while, you're not even that worried about the game anymore."

"That's pretty stupid, but I'm weirdly wanting to do it," the brunette said, rubbing her hands together.

"Yes. So, are you all up to it?," August finally concluded, looking around.

"I'm going to fetch the King," Killian said, not even waiting a beat and getting up from the couch, striding straight into the kitchen.

"Ruby, Emma, you will... Well, you don't really know how to arrange the furniture, so just go grab the beers and put them on the table, please," Victor said, also getting up and tossing the pillows and cushions on the floor, August following his lead a second later.

 

* * *

  

They were fifteen minutes into the game and Emma was already feeling tipsy.

She and Ruby had organised the cans and the bottle in the X formation and helped the guys settle everything before standing with them on the couch and waiting.

After a second, August had announced ' _This is the True American._ ' and proceeded to start the game with a ' _one, two, three, four, JFK!_ ', to which everyone else responded with an equally loud ' _FDR!_ ' and a huge sip of their beer.

The game was _crazy_ , if Emma was honest. There were _twenty four_ cans of beer on that table - which made Emma wonder how many cans did those people have stored - and a bottle of rum - which was honestly expected.

There was a lot of running and jumping and yelling around the place and she hadn't laughed that much in months. Sure, it was probably the beer, but it was _fun_ and Emma appreciated it.

Victor was still trying to approach Ruby, leaping near her any time he had the chance and getting downright ignored and/or snapped at. Drunken Ruby was _even more_ impatient and sassy than sober Ruby, so that was a lot to be said.

August had been out of the game twice and Ruby had been declassified for pushing Killian off a chair in an attempt to find room for herself.

But the main thing Emma noticed was how carefree and light she felt when she laughed at something stupid Killian said or one of the several times August had fallen from some furniture or Ruby's drunk laugh - it sounded like a squirrel.

"Hey, hey, hey, okay, okay, question time," August shouted - _slurred_ \- out, making them all go quiet and still as they waited for it. "Okay, tell me the common trait: Oregon and Maine."

The silence only lasted for a few seconds before Killian blurted it out loud and clear. "Portland!"

The players all groaned and watched as he took a big drink and jumped from the cushion he was standing on to the armchair. It also happened to be the armchair Emma was standing on.

"Jones, there is a coffee table right over there, get out of my property." She didn't push him, but his chest was still pressed against her shoulder, which made her arm tingle for some reason. She decided to inwardly shrug it off.

"That is a very special coffee table, Swan, I won't risk standing on it."

She waited a bit. "Ruby just jumped on it."

He frowned down at her almost adorably and she looked up at him. She was surprised and startled at how blue and glassy his eyes were and how pretty his lips were and how weirdly attractive his hair was, more mussed and disheveled than usual.

She wanted to kiss him.

Nope. She didn't. _Emma doesn't want to kiss Killian. That's ridiculous._

The sober part of her mind kept screaming it was just the beer thinking, but Emma couldn't help but wonder how would it feel like.

"Emma, your turn," Victor laughed, holding onto Ruby's shoulder so he wouldn't fall down from the corner of the table.

"JFK!," she suddenly shouted, and was actually impressed at how they were all still very attentive to the game.

"FDR!," they all shouted back and she finished her can of beer with three last gulps.

"All trash belongs...," she started.

"In the junk yard!," they answered, and she plus August tossed their cans on the already forming mount of crap near the trashcan across the room.

Emma's mind was foggy when she looked around and saw Killian eyeing the now alone bottle of rum on the table. She could see a plan forming in his head.

"No...," she mumbled, but it was too late.

"Killian, you're up," Ruby called out, scraping her nails on the metal of her can.

The black haired grinned almost evilly, his eyes scanning the room before reaching Emma's. "Sorry, love." He wasn't. "August, mate, would you mind thinking of a quote for me to finish?"

"No problem," the other blue eyed dismissed, his voice an octave higher as he supported himself on the couch's armrest. " _Oh_ ," he suddenly exclaimed. "Got one." He made them all wait ten seconds before saying it. "' _No man is good enough to..._ '?"

 _Oh, no._ Emma knew that one. But she couldn't remember. She couldn't even remember _who_ said it. _Damned be those beers._

Killian looked lost for a moment - she could see Victor perching up on his spot, a smile coming to his face as he saw his friend's helplessness -. However, Killian was weirdly schooled about American history.

"'... _govern another man without his consent_ '!," he yelled out, finishing it and his own beer with a laugh.

"How do you even _know_ that, this is ridiculous!," Victor cried out, Ruby's hand lightly patting his arm.

Killian just shrugged before jumping from his spot next to Emma in Zone Four to Zone One, going from the armchair to the couch and jumping over the rest to the chair behind it. Emma would _not_ have found that so impressive if she hadn't drunk nearly six beers. Or maybe she _would_?

Everyone could see he was aiming for a win. In the end, that was exactly what happened.

He went into the center section and nearly slipped over one of the cushions, but the bastard managed to keep himself off the ground and reached for the rum bottle, screwing the cap open and bringing it to his mouth. Of course Emma didn't _intently_ watch his throat as he swallowed. That would have been stupid.

After that, it was all a blur to her. What happened, anyway?

 

* * *

 

"That was stupid, Emma," Ruby groaned, taking that pillow from under her head and hitting her friend with it.

" _Ow_ ," the blonde complained from her spot next to her. "I'm not better than you here."

"Sorry. It was just your fault."

"How is  _you_ suggesting something fun and distracting to do _my_ fault?," Emma asked, disbelief hopefully clear in her voice - muffled by a pillow.

"I don't know, I just know I regret it."

Emma had woken up three minutes before and squinted at the sunlight streaming through her window, her head pounding and her mouth dry. She knew she was hungover even before she opened her eyes.

And apparently Ruby had crashed on her bed that night.

Victor better _not_ have entered the room as they slept.

"Hey, Ruby," Emma called, internally laughing at her friend's grunt in reply. "Want some aspirin?"

"Yes, please."

"It might take a while." With that, Emma slowly - _very_ slowly - sat up, the pain on her temples suddenly moving to the rest of the head. Her tongue felt too big and her eyes screamed for darkness, but she got on her feet anyway.

With a groan, she pressed the heels of her hands on her eyes and rubbed, the pressure lightly relieving the pain for a moment before it came rushing back.

She exited her room, going straight to the kitchen and taking a while to notice the ones already there.

August had his head laid on his crossed arms over the table, Killian was rubbing his forehead with his eyes closed and Victor... _Wait_. Victor was making pancakes.

"Oh, good morning, Emma," he greeted happily, her reply being a hushing noise that was mimed by the two others. "Aspirin's on the counter."

"How are you _not_ dying?," she muttered out, grabbing a glass of water from the fridge and reaching for the aspirin Killian was handing out - the contact of their fingers bringing a jolt up her arm - and smiling in return.

"He's always been like this, love," he answered, glaring at Victor's back. The man was already dressed for work, for God's sake. He had a _tie_  on. And it was eight o'clock. "The last time I saw him hungover was in college."

Killian and Victor had been roommates in college, and they had told Emma a few stories. To be honest, she didn't remember half.

"Can you all shut up?," they heard August muffled voice, and Emma chuckled - before, of course, rubbing her temples, because that hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True American is surprisingly hard to write. But I literally found a whole website dedicated to the rules. It's just the rules of the game and it actually helped a lot.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I skipped Thursday's update and I'm sorry. I had literally written two paragraphs and all I could think was how I was not going to finish that in three hours. I wrote a lot on Friday, a bit yesterday and the last part ten minutes ago. I'm proud to say I stuck to the schedule today for 30 minutes only whohoo. 
> 
> I watched Age of Ultron today, got home half an hour before OUAT and what the hell, the show became a soap opera. But seriously, that goodbye scene made me tear up in excitement. Plus, wHAT THE HELL IS GOUNG TO HAPPEN TO SNOW NEXT EPISODE AND WHY ISNT THE PROMO NEARLY CLEAR ENOUGH

"When I was a child, 'Santa Claus' left me a firetruck and a teddy bear that smelled like my mother's perfume," Killian was telling the 'gang' as they made tinsels with the berries August had bought three days before. "I guess I found out too early." 

"I most of the times don't know wether to believe things or not," Emma chirped in, focusing her eyes on the string between her fingers. "So I'm always very indecisive if someone tells me a fat old guy brings people presents every year."

"Well, wether or not Santa's real, it's nice having something to believe in," August stated matter-of-factly, making all of the others still their movements and look up at him.

Emma licked her lips. "Did you just say ' _wether or not_ Santa's real'?"

"You believe in Santa Claus?," Victor half laughed, baffled.

August snorted, but even a blind person would see his hesitance. "No. But do I wish Santa was real? Yeah?"

"He's not real, August," Killian teased, studying August's expression.

He scoffed. "Shut up, you idiot. You're-- ha, no, _you_ \--" Poor August then proceeded to let out various unfinished words and sentences that didn't make sense, which only made the others grin harder. "You're one to talk, Jones! You're the one who doesn't eat mayonnaise during the World Cup," he finished, getting up and walking to the counter in the kitchen."

"That's the only way England doesn't _lose_ in the first games," he replied with a grimace, his eyes fixed on the table.

"Hey, Pinocchio," Victor called softly, making August turn around with an annoyed look. "Have you been a good boy this year?"

(Their bantering always made Emma laugh - the stupider the funnier.)

Whale was answered with a cranberry to his face. Emma didn't even look at his face to know it must have been screaming ' _challenge accepted_ '. "Oh, really?"

Killian was already getting up and Victor followed, the three starting a cranberry fight that ended up with Emma sinking the best she could down her chair as she told them to stop. There were limits for everything.

"Wa-- _Truce_ , truce!," August suddenly shouted, his hand covering his right ear, and Emma was impressed at how the other two _actually_ stopped. "There's one stuck in my ear."

Silence took in for about three seconds.

"There's a cranberry in his ear," Killian downright snickered, he and Victor bumping their fists together as they chuckled.

"How is that even possible?," she asked, getting up.

"Why don't you ask Santa Claus to get it out?," Victor teased.

" _Huh_?! I said there's a cranberry in stuck in my ear!"

 _Oh god._ The two other _children_ went back to their little battle and attacked, their laugh and August's constant loud requests of truce the only sound echoing through the apartment.

After it was over, they all settled in a silent agreement - marked by Emma's glare at each one - to pick all the berries from the floor.

Not five minutes into it, August managed to take the cranberry from inside his ear.

"These pieces don't make a full berry; there's definitely something still stuck in there," he said, a tone louder.

Killian walked behind him towards the kitchen and spoke up. "Will anyone give me a ride to the airport tomorrow night? I fly back to England at three am to meet my brother."

"So tonight's literally our last chance to spend anything remotely like a holiday together?," Emma asked, the soft side of her saddening. Those guys had basically become family to her, since she didn't actually have any except for her friends.

"No one stays at home on a Saturday before Christmas, Emma," Victor stated. "Which is why we're having the party. There are millions and millions of public and private celebrations of the holidays going all around the place and _we're_ going to be one of them."

"I'll have to ask you all to not act weird around Tink; I'll try to show her the best before unleashing the treacherous beasts I call friends," Killian chirped in darkly.

"Thanks, man," Victor clapped his shoulder as he passed by.

"What are you talking about?," August shouted, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"Mate, you're yelling."

"Huh?"

"So we're supposed to act nice around your girlfriend during a Christmas party with tons of people we'll probably not know?," Emma asked, setting the now full of berries bowl on the counter he leaned on.

"Basically."

"Great."

"And she's not my girlfriend. _Yet_."

 

* * *

 

 _It's three days before Christmas, for god's sake!_ It was _three_ days before Christmas and people apparently didn't have family to travel to.

"Ruby, who did you invite?," Emma asked her loudly, trying to speak over the music.

"Just a few people from work. And some of their friends. I _may_ have told them to bring at least two other people," the brunette concluded with a shrug.

"Ruby!"

" _What_ , we need more people in our party!," Ruby whined.

"This is the first party we throw since I started living here."

"Off to a good start, then, right?"

With an eye roll, she tried not to groan when their talk was interrupted by one of Ruby's model friends, who came in squealing about how amazing the party was and how she saw a hottie in the corner, to whom Ruby started to usher the girl to with a smirk thrown over her shoulder.

Emma had seen Mary Margaret and David near a corner about an hour earlier, talking to some other serious couple, but they must have been gone by now. They had their quiet, early nights and early rising after a party and all that crap married couples did.

"So, Swan. Having fun?"

She scoffed, turning around to see Killian leaning onto the wall next to her. "Totally. _All_ I wanted to do tonight was drink alcohol whilst listening to deafening music and voices of people I don't know."

He laughed at the palpable sarcasm in her voice and offered her one of the two beers he was holding. "You look like you could use a drink."

She grinned the _I'm-so-glad-you-know-me-that-well_ smile and took it, screwing the cap off and taking a swig. "Are you really wearing a Santa hat?" She had only noticed it now, the red hat with puffy white end and rim.

"Some girl just shoved it on my head. Why, you like it?," he smirked, an eyebrow raising in challenge. She knew he did that to annoy her.

"You look like an elf."

"An _elf_?"

"The ears. They help."

He scowled and pulled the hat further down in an attempt to hide his ears. "That's indelicate, Swan."

She didn't answer, taking another sip of her beer and looking around. "I would be baking Christmas cookies and eating them by myself now," she longed, her eyes lingering on the stove behind three college girls she'd never seen before in her life.

"Nah, I'd probably eat half of them," Killian said, making her snort.

"I honestly don't know wether that's comforting or not," she replied. It sort of was because she wouldn't have to eat them alone. It definitely wasn't because she was never one to share food, including cookies and/or anything related to chocolate.

"Emma?"

That wasn't Killian: she flinched when she heard that voice. Turning her head around, she blinked at the sight of his face. "Walsh?"

He breathed out a laugh, his eyes going from Killian's face to his drink, then finally to her. "I've been looking for you for a few minutes. How are you?"

She stared into his face for a few more seconds before snapping out of her internal momentary blackout. "No."

He frowned. "What?"

"Just... _No_." She was scowling at him before she brushed past him and got as far away from him as she possibly could. That was, coincidently, at Ruby's side.

"Hey, Ems!," the brunette greeted. "Oh, here, let me introduce you to--"

"Walsh's here."

"What? _The_ Walsh?"

"Yeah. Did _you_ invite him?," Emma asked, her tone slightly frantic as she did her best to subtly hide behind her friend.

She shook her head. "Maybe he's friends with someone?"

"I don't know; I _won't_ ask him. I won't _talk_ to him." She heard him shout her name over the loud speakers they were standing by and winced. It hurt more than it should. She peeked over Ruby's shoulder and saw him walking towards the people by the window, so she took her chance and rushed over to the hall where the rooms were located.

She heard two familiar voices from inside the bathroom and creaked the already half opened door even more, just to see Victor with his face in his hand as August tried to take the cranberry that was _still_ stuck in his ear - _honestly, how is that even_ possible - out.

"Hey, Emma," August saluted loudly, and she was quick to shush him.

"What's wrong?," Victor asked, and she just sighed in response. "That's very informative, but I'll need more."

"It's just... Walsh is here."

" _The_ Walsh? The one that dumped you?," he asked surprised.

"What?," August inquired, making Emma roll her eyes and Victor warn him he was speaking too loudly ("Listen with your _other_ ear, you idiot.")

"Yes, that Walsh."

"What's he doing here?"

"Someone must have invited him," Emma guessed again, her hand raising to rub her temple as she sat on the wooden bench they kept by the wall - it all reminded her of gym restrooms from high school and it made her cringe during her first months there. Now she had just grown used to it. "But I don't know why he _came_ ; he's come here plenty times before, he _knows_ I live here. If he wasn't looking for anything serious, why would he come?"

"Maybe he's looking for something serious now?," August chimed, making Emma sigh again because it shouldn't _feel_ like this. She should be over him.

"I don't know, Emma, this guy is messing your emotional state; I've never seen anyone do that. This doesn't look like your usual self and that frankly worries me."

"That's stupid, Whale. Maybe she changed a bit because she likes this guy," August told him, and Victor was about to make a sassy comeback when they heard footsteps outside and Walsh calling for her, his voice coming and going - probably from inside the rooms and then from the corridor.

"Crap. Okay, go," she got up, pushing each of their shoulders towards the shower box. "Go, go inside."

With a final yank of the curtain, it stilled right as the bathroom door opened at the same time as Walsh's calls reached her ears.

"Emma?" They didn't answer, _obviously_ , and Emma did the best she could to not breathe too loudly. "Look, I don't know if you're in there, but what the hell, I'm just going to say it: Emma, I was an _idiot_. I was scared of a relationship back then and I shouldn't have done that to you. I was an idiot and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made you feel like that and I'm sorry that I didn't give us a chance for my own egoistical reasons."

His words were followed by the quiet and Emma heard him sigh. Until, of course...

" _What did he say?_ "

 _Oh my god_. "Wha-- August, _shut up_ ," Victor complained in a hushed tone.

"What are you thinking?," she whispered, her hand smacking his arm.

"What?"

"Emma?" _Oh, shit._

"You need to review your QI, Booth."

"Wh-- Are you in there?"

"Damn it, August," she closed her eyes for a second, gathering the confidence she needed to face Walsh and pushing the curtain aside, stepping out of the tight space and looking up at him.

"What were you doing in there?," the dark-eyed asked, his eyes raising to Victor and August then back to her, a small grin on his lips.

"Walsh, I don't-- we can't be together like this."

He blinked. "But _why_ not?"

"Because..." She trailed off, all the plans and excuses she previously had in her head crumbling into tiny little pieces and mingling together on the metaphorical ground under them. She just panicked. "Because I'm now with August." She tried to make her point by pulling him by his arm towards her and glueing his side to hers, her eyes never leaving Walsh's face.

"Huh?" Fortunately, it didn't sound undignified, it just sounded as if he didn't get what she's said, which was probably what actually happened. _Thank God._

"And we're very happy, something _we_ ," she gestured between herself and Walsh, "could not have been."

With that - fake - point made, she stepped around him, pulling August with her, and walking out of the bathroom and back into the party, disposing of him as soon as she got into the even bigger crowd in their living area. She needed more alcohol.

 

* * *

 

Emma didn't see Walsh anymore until one am, when the people were just the same in volume but less college in excitement. The party now consisted of slightly more adult people, sitting basically anywhere, talking, drinking, laughing and some may or may not have been trying to pull a prank on a poor passed out drunk on the floor below a window.

Even with the human warmth and the heater that was already turned on, the loft was still a bit cold, so she had spent at least the last ten minutes in front of the heating machine, her fingers toying with the neck of her beer bottle, the label, the hem of her shirt, the ends of her sleeves; anything that could distract her from looking up and, probably, at Walsh. If not, she would just impulsively look for him.

"Emma."

She looked up to see August purposefully walking towards her with a skeptical looking Walsh on his heels.

"I am not sorry when I say this: we _cannot_ be together," August said, and Emma resisted the urge not to roll her eyes at his bad acting and his going against the plan idea. "I need to have my own freedom and my own privacy. Not that you didn't give me those, but my needs are bigger than what you could give me." She raised an eyebrow and almost waited for Killian to pipe in out of nowhere with a ready innuendo for that.

Where was he anyway?

"What I'm saying is that I am breaking up with you. You're a horrible person to be with me and we have nothing in common!" He had been saying this loudly before, but that last part was a near shout that would've made her laugh if Walsh wasn't standing _right there_.

To add up points, August for some reason thought it would be reasonable to throw the last drops of his drink on her sweater before stomping away, turning around right before disappearing into his room and giving her a thumbs up from behind Walsh's back.

_Well, that was ruined._

Emma sighed when Walsh took a step closer to her. "We were never together," she informed him, and he chuckled lightly.

"I noticed."

"Ugh, Walsh, I _can't_ \-- we can't do this. You told me you didn't _want_ anything and I am confused and just complete--"

She was cut off when his lips met hers, and she almost melted into his hands on her cheeks. Almost.

Pushing him away, she mentally scolded herself. "No, Walsh, you can't just kiss me and expect me to come back running for you. You told me you had made a decision and that you wouldn't change your mind. I kicked myself for thinking you'd just change your mind for _months_ and I've finally made up my mind. You can't come here and ask me to be with you without any actual arguments over it. You can't ask me back for the simple fact that I wanted you before. It's unfair to me, and I can't, I can't do it." With those last words, she looked at him one last time before walking back to her room - kicking out the two beings that were making out against a wall - and just getting herself ready to sleep, not giving a damn the party was still going and to what her housemates were doing as she did so.

 

* * *

 

Except it wasn't the last time. After a night filled with nightmares related to abandonment and heartbreak, she woke up that morning to a front door closing, the usual 'you're the one cleaning this up' after-party banter and a scarily restless face in the mirror.

She called Ruby about three hundred times before her friend finally picked up. " _What?_ "

"Good morning to you too, Lucas."

" _It's early, why are you calling me?_ ," Ruby groaned.

"It's eleven in the morning."

" _It's early, why are you calling me?_ "

"I thought you'd want to know the events that ensued last night and I'd also like a bit of advice," she said, pressing her phone between her shoulder and cheek to grab some beer bottles from the floor. "I supposed you were interested in my love life enough to be excited the morning after my first actual party." She knew this would make Ruby wake up. She knew just right.

" _Oh my god, did you sleep with him?_ " She could almost see the brunette in her trashed state sitting upright on her bed in the blink of an eye.

"No. That's actually the advice I wanted." Emma told her the whole story: what he said, what she said, what they did and what both of them wanted. "Was I wrong in not giving him a second chance?"

" _I don't know...,_ " her friend responded honestly. " _Maybe you should ask yourself if it was_."

"What do you think I've been doing since that conversation happened?" _Frankly, Ruby..._

" _I mean, ask yourself what you want. He was pretty clear on what he wanted; maybe you could even use those superpowers of yours to see if he was lying or not._ " She paused for a yawn and then proceeded. " _But the most important part is if you want it. You have to know if_ you _want it to even remotely start thinking about the future._ "

She was right. _Ugh_. "Okay."

" _Okay? Now let me sleep_."

"It's eleven am, Ruby."

" _It's also the morning after a violently filled with alcohol party, I might hibernate_."

 

* * *

 

"Why would you let someone do that, Whale?," Emma asked, slightly frantic.

"Look, I said I'm sorry already. I was drunk and it just seemed like a good idea!," he apologised, his hands gesturing in front of him.

"Since _when_ does giving away an armchair - _my_ armchair, may I add - seem like a good idea?!," Killian demanded, turning around on his seat to momentarily face the blonde man.

"I said I was drunk!"

"Nobody gets _that_ drunk," Emma stated.

"Whatever," he simply replied, a frown on his face, and tucked his body further into his seat, looking at the buildings that passed by. _What a child,_ she thought for probably the millionth time quite literally since she moved in with him.

Killian rightened his posture with an annoyed grunt and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Why did she even tell you her address?"

" _Well_...," Victor started. "She just _kinda_ did."

"What do you mean ' _kinda_ '?," she asked, quickly looking at him in the rearview mirror.

"She only told me about the neighbourhood." Without another word, Emma started pulling over. " _No_! No, but she told me _where_ in the neighbourhood her house is! She just didn't mention streets and stuff." She went back to the middle of the street and waited the predictable _but_. "But like it's only a bit vague."

Pull over.

Protest and explanation.

Back to the middle of the street.

It followed in that rhythm for a whole minute when they heard a siren. "No... No, _Whale_! Look what you're getting us into! You didn't shower, you idiot, I can _smell_ the beer in you..." She slowed to a stop and watched as the policeman hopped out of his car.

"Jesus-- look, I'm sorry again, okay?"

"Don't worry, Swan, we can show only Whale smells," Killian tried to calm her, but the memories of being arrested for eleven months got back to her and, even though she could only get a ticket, she _couldn't_ \--

"Afternoon, sir," Whale greeted the old man officer that had stood next to the car.

"Look, officer," Emma said before the man could even reply to Victor, "I know how this looks and, well, _smells_ , but I promise you I would never drink and drive. We were just very indecisive about our destination and I assure you none of us drank enough last night to still be alcoholised, specially me. So, if you don't believe me, it--"

"I believe you."

 _Wait. Really?_ "You do?"

The old man tilted his head, a little smile on his lips, his eyes glancing at the rearview mirror for a second before turning them to her. "Sometimes, people tell the truth."

With a last smile and a wish for happy holidays, the man with the white long curly beard and a big belly tapped her door and walked away.

Killian was the first one to speak. "Was that--"

"Santa Claus," Victor concluded, slightly breathless. "Somebody call Booth now."

But Emma wasn't paying attention anymore. She had something to do.

_You can't ask me back for the simple fact I wanted you before._

_You have to know if you want it to even remotely start thinking about the future._

_Sometimes, people tell the truth._

Okay, then. _Let's hope he's telling the truth._

Stepping on the accelerator, she ignored Victor's ' _we just passed by her house_ ' and Killian's ' _what about my armchair_ ' and drove until she found the store. The furniture store she knew Walsh owned and knew he was one of those weirdos who opened every day, including Sunday, and knew he was there because he had told her he could never actually get a day off because he loved his job. She cared for him and she would kick herself even more if she didn't give them a chance.

 

* * *

 

After ten minutes of searching, three minutes of an attempt of singing Christmas carols when a security of the store found them suspicious - long story short, Victor looked like a drug addict in his unbathed and hungover appearance - and another five of talk that ended with her coming back two hours later and kissing him goodnight - well, it wasn't actually _goodnight_ , after all -, Emma found herself in a state she could only describe as blissful.

After all, Santa did come to give people presents. Maybe happiness was hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last part was a bit rushed because I couldn't possibly turn that hospital/Christmas carol with Zooey Deschanel's voice/kiss scene into something even relatable to OUAT or Captain Swan. I refuse to let Walsh be a doctor. Mainly a pediatrician. No. He's too much of a jerk in any au to be that. And hey, I managed to fit an entire episode in one chapter! Even if said chapter is nearly five thousand words.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES MY FRIENDS I HAVE MADE IT. I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED THIS CHAPTER. ITS BEEN TOO LONG AND I CANNOT UTTER HOW HAPPY I AM.  
> Honestiy, though, this chapter was hELL. I do not like this episode at all and it was really hard to get the words out. In the end, I made it. 
> 
> Hopefully, now that this chapter's out of the way, I may be able to write more often. 
> 
> If you've watched the show you know what episode is coming *wink wink* (if you don't then you can tell by the wink wink it's something special).

As the holiday season passed, Emma noticed things settle down.

She was happy with Walsh, Victor looked _kind_ of happy trying to pretend he didn't want Ruby back, August was glad his book was progressing, and Killian was sort of dating the stripper. 

 _Yes_. Tink was a stripper. A fact he kept remembering his roommates at the loft. As soon as he let it out the first night after Christmas from England, Victor had started to protest.

("Of course she's not a stripper. Why would a stripper date you?"

"Sorry, dude, but have you _looked_ at him?," August stole the words from her mouth, and she was glad he did. That wouldn't sound so funny and/or weird coming from her.

"What?," Whale questioned, a small grin on his lips.

"The dude gets all the chicks, get over it," he answered, shrugging it off.

 _Brohood, honestly._ )

Being honest, Emma never exactly enjoyed Tink's presence.

("Her name's not really _Tink_ , is it?," Emma once asked Killian during a lunch alone with him at the loft.

"No, her name's Rosie, but she thinks it's too...," he smirked, " _innocent_.")

Sure, she tolerated the little person's quiet and obviously naughty whispers into her roommate's ear - the jaw thing gave it away _every_ time - and weird jokes that seemed to be all innuendos, all of them making her guy roommates laugh uncomfortably. She rarely did.

("She _does_ look like a pixie," August once observed as they sat on the couch, observing Killian and Tink herself attempt and fail at making a snack.

Victor and Emma both tilted their heads, watching the girl and _oh my god, it's true._ )

Still, the sight of that head of dirty-blonde hair tied constantly in a high big bun made Emma purse her lips every time.

But the fact that most annoyed her was how Killian insisted they were in an open relationship and he didn't ' _have feelings for her, that's stupid_ '. But Emma could still see how his eyes lightened when he looked at her and how he just praised anything she did, both to herself and to him. She once doodled on his body with permanent marker and he laughed it out.

_He needs to sort things out._

 

* * *

 

"Come _on_ , Emma, you'll love it!"

"Mary Margaret, I think it's pretty difficult for me to like a romantic weekend alone with my four week boyfriend in a cabin near a lake. Mainly if it's _your_ boss's cabin," Emma added, putting the items left on the counter after the pixie haired's successful attempt of baking in the fridge and cupboards.

"That's rubbish, you'll love it," she said, pointing a dirty whisk at her blonde friend. "Plus, it'll be a great chance to get to know him better."

"I don't need to know him better," Emma protested. "That'll definitely rush things up and I'll probably mess it up at some point if it's going too fast."

Mary Margaret tsked her. "No, honey, you won't mess it up. It's been forever since you last had an actual very serious relationship--"

"Hey, Jefferson was pretty serious."

"It was serious, not passionate serious," she explained, making Emma's shoulders slump in lack of other suggestions. "Plus, you dated him for about three weeks. In my humble opinion, the relationship isn't exactly _real_ until you pass the one month mark. Because then, all the honeymoon-slash-discovering all you have to discover about your partner phase would have passed and you just start worrying about the here and now."

"What about the future?"

"That's after the fourth month."

"Well, aren't you a relationship master," Emma deadpanned.

"Oh, hush, I've only watched enough romantic comedies to know this all. And romance books. Let's just say I'm a love worm."

"I'm surprised you didn't even mention your _perfect_ relationship with David."

"We're not even _married_ yet," Mary Margaret protested, closing the last cupboard and standing behind the counter as Emma sat on a stool.

"Right, that'll happen in July," she corrected with sarcasm.

"Yes, and you are my maid of honour. You should be almost as excited as I am."

"It's in six months."

"Five and a half."

"Whatever."

" _Excitement_."

 

* * *

 

"So, how are things with Tink?," Emma asked him as he cooked their dinner.

"Okay," he replied, turning his head and raising an eyebrow over his shoulder. "Why?"

The blonde shrugged. "I just..." She hesitated. "I, um... Well, there's this cabin near a lake about three hours from here and I was going to take Walsh there this weekend. I was just wondering if you and Tink would like to come with."

He stilled his movements, turning the stove off and fully turning around, his eyebrows knitted together. "Why?"

"Why _not_?," she fired back. "I mean, you two look pretty serious, you've been dating for nearly a month no--"

"No, Swan," he interrupted. "I meant why do you need someone else there?" She hesitated and he used that pause. "He's not into kinky stuff, is he?"

"What? No," she shook her head, remembering who she was talking to. "Ugh, just forget it, I'll ask someone else."

"I didn't say _no_ ," he raised one hand, cutting her short once more. Emma frowned, surprised. "I'm not sure Tink would like it, but for me it's just fine," he shrugged at her, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "I am, after all, a gentleman," he winked, turning back around to continue cooking their dinner.

 

* * *

 

Emma didn't like the glow in Tink's eyes when Walsh found two shotguns in the coat closet near the door.

Killian was wary, raising an eyebrow at Emma, who shrugged, and followed them outside.

"Um, do you _know_ how to shoot?," Emma asked the petit blonde.

"Of course!," she exclaimed, reaching for one of the guns in Walsh's hands.

"You sure, love?," Emma heard Killian say, his voice laced with worry.

For some reason, Emma didn't quite believe her. Crossing her arms, brow wrinkling upon the prospective of disaster, she approached Walsh, her arm brushing his.

They watched quietly as Tink struggled with the weight of the gun, and they all flinched and jerked away from her when she lost balance and pointed the gun basically _everywhere_. She didn't regain it, for some unknown reason _pulling the trigger and firing._

The sound that followed made Emma wince, her eyes going up and watching as the energy box - placed on the top of a freaking _light post_ for a freaking _reason_ \- basically exploded, sparks flying from it as the space around them turned silent. _Extremely_ silent.

" _No_ ," she uttered aloud. "No, no, no, no," she continued as she rushed inside - nearly tripping over the front steps - and attempted to flick a light switch. "No, no, no, _no_ ," she finished, dropping on the couch when no lights _worked_ , her hand rising to her forehead and rubbing it tiredly.

The cabin was Mary Margaret's boss', a woman she didn't even know. How would she explain that one of the guests had ruined the only way to keep warm in the cold winter nights? Sure there was a fireplace, but hell, it was mid-January in Northern California. If they didn't freeze during the night, it would be a miracle.

"I am so...," she heard from the door, and lifted her head to see Tink, shoulders sagged and the gun held loosely in her hand. "...so, so, _so_ sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen."

Emma brushed away the apology; it wouldn't get them anywhere. They were two hours from actual _civilisation_ , and the sun was already going down. With another sigh, she closed her eyes again. She just wanted to crawl into a hole and never have to show her face to Mary Margaret again.

Emma was already surprised her boss had let her use the cabin, the descriptions made by her pixie haired friend always revolving around ' _evil_ ' and ' _mean_ ' and ' _rude_ '. Emma doubted the woman even knew _she_ was there, and would probably blame Mary Margaret and give her hell for... Well, _ever_.

"No problem, love," Killian reassured as soon as he stepped into the already cooling place. "We have a fireplace." Emma could hear the grin in his face, and just focused on his footsteps approaching her and the creaks the floorboards made when he crouched in front of the square hole in the wall.

Opening her eyelids once more, she saw the exact moment he managed to light the fire.

"There," he said after a breathy laugh. "Warm and cozy." When he turned around, she saw how his eyes lingered on her with worry before the grin was back. "So. Who's up for dinner?"

 

* * *

 

" _Okay_ , I found blankets," Tink announced, throwing each one of them a different, mold-stinky wool blanket.

Emma's jaw was already trembling in cold, her leather jacket and Walsh's warm body glued to hers not doing much with the temperature. She gladly took both blankets handed to them and draping them over them.

"And look what _else_ I found!," Tink proceeded, holding up a glass bottle with...

"Is that _absinthe_?," Walsh half laughed, sitting up.

"Let's dig in, people," she exclaimed, waving the bright green liquid in front of their faces.

"Isn't that highly alcoholic?," Killian asked amused.

"Yes, it is."

Walsh held out a hand. "Pass it out, then," he laughed fully now, and Emma couldn't help but feel a tug in her conscience about his eagerness to chug that thing down.

The man took two big gulps of the drink, his face wrinkling with the burn of the liquid, and he breathed out an exaggerated laugh.

"Jesus, this is _strong_!" He seemed _happy_.

Emma took just one sip of it, the burning in her throat unpleasant for the first second before she could already notice the edges of her sight slightly blurry. Maybe it _had_ been a nice idea.

The last thing she fully remembers is laughing as Killian shrugged and took a drink from the bottle.

 

* * *

 

The place she 'woke up' was in front of the toiled, her head nearly falling in as she put out everything she'd drunk that night. Had it even been long?

She blinked up to see Killian sat on the edge of the bathtub behind her, one hand on her shoulder. His face was half worried half disgusted.

She groaned as she sat back against the wall, her hand rising to rub her eyes strongly. "God, why did we _do_ that?"

"Not ' _we_ ', love," he protested, standing up and leaning into the wall, his arms crossing against his chest. "Surprisingly enough I was the sober one amongst you three."

Chuckling weakly, she accepted his helping hand and got to her feet, swaying a bit as her head span. He steadied her, one hand near her waist and the other on her shoulder, and he sat her down on the queen sized bed of what she recognised as her and Walsh's designated room.

Settling beside her, he sighed. "I have _never_ seen you this drunk, Swan, and you know we've had our fair share of drunken nights," he managed to make it sound like an innuendo, the bastard, and she pretended it didn't do things to her stomach, mentally claiming it was just because she had just _puked_ a lot of liquid. "But honestly, your dear boyfriend Walsh has officially managed to become even more drunken then you." He sounded amused.

"Really?," she deadpanned, but straightened her back right after. "Where is he? He didn't pass out, did he?"

"Afraid not, love, and I'm half disappointed by this fact. Also very surprised."

She rolled her eyes at him, slowly getting up and walking to the door, hearing Killian's steps behind her in the creaky wooden floor.

She heard laughter downstairs, and had a smile already curling up on her lips as she descended the stairs, but it was gone before she could even realise it.

Walsh was sitting on the armchair by the fire, Tink literally _on his lap_ , her mouth near his ear as he held her elbow. She couldn't hear what they were muttering, but they were both obviously _really drunk._

It was only when she heard ' _but I'm with Emma_ ' that she fully walked down the steps, slowly walking towards them. She felt her heard skip a beat, because he wasn't letting Tink go much farther than that because he _remembered_ Emma. She wasn't used to being put first.

Killian beat her to the scolding. "What the bloody hell is happening?" He sounded angry, yes, but also ridiculously confused.

Tink giggled - she _giggled_. "Well, when you took her upstairs, I assumed we were making a little trade for the evening," she looked at him under her lashes, and Emma was slightly grossed out.

" _What_? Why would you think that?"

"Well, because you were alone? Going straight to the rooms? With beds--"

"Yes, I got it," he raised a hand, his shoulders sagging. He approached her, taking her softly by the upper arm and carefully lifting her from Walsh's lap. "You got it wrong, love. I just went to help her--"

"Get laid?," Tink suggested, leaning all her weight on him in her drunken haze.

He just chuckled and Emma didn't really get how they... _Worked_. "No, darling, get the alcohol out of her system."

"Can you help _me_ get laid?," the petit blonde asked, raising to her very tip toes to reach up and nearly connect her lips with his, if he hadn't pulled back.

"We actually have to have dinner, don't we?" _Nice save, Jones._

Emma's heart was still beating fast from both, the scare and Walsh's drunken statement. But she couldn't help but feel angry at Tink. Who would possibly think that? Who _could_ possibly think that? her blood wasn't exactly boiling, but it wasn't flowing calmly either.

Helping Walsh up, she took him to the bathroom before he would throw up in the fireplace or on them.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was... _Tense_.

They had stopped at Granny's before leaving town, getting various sandwiches they would have stored in a fridge if they had _power_ , but they decided to eat the most they could. They were leaving in the morning, anyway; there was no point in worrying too much about it.

Their sandwiches were cold and there were no actual glasses in the kitchen cupboards, so they had to improvise with the weak plastic cups they'd bought - per Killian's request.

As an unquiet Killian and a cheerful Tink sorted out the food, Emma had already tore her cup apart, her mind elsewhere as she stared into the still vividly burning fire.

"Okay, let's eat," Tink called out, and they all sat at the table.

"Can you pass me another cup?," Emma asked aloud, not even bothering to direct it to someone in specific.

"Sure," she heard Tink - _no_ \- say, and quickly turned to Walsh, sat beside her.

"Can you grab me another cup, please?"

She didn't even look at Tink. She didn't _want_ to look at Tink. She didn't exactly feel betrayed. It was more like... Lied to in general. And the fact that she felt that more strongly towards Tink bothered her.

The other girl sighed, huffing out the air quickly. "Look, Emma, I'm sorry," she pleaded, her accent making it difficult for Emma to take her fully serious.

She nodded, still not looking at her, and gave Walsh a tight lipped smile when he passed her a new cup.

"Emma, I mean it," Tink proceeded, and it took Emma a lot of effort to keep from huffing and rolling her eyes. "I just thought it was something Killian was into. It's not like we're fully exclusive or anything."

Emma saw the moment everything in Killian and even the space around him stilled. "We're not?"

"Well, we did talk about this and I did say I would think about it," Tink continued.

"Can we talk upstairs?," he finally asked her, and Emma almost let out a sigh of relief because that's what she'd suggested from the start. "Please?," he added, and the puppy eyes action made Tink's shoulders drop and her body rise.

Emma sat back, watching as they walked upstairs for a moment, then fixed her eyes on Walsh. He was also looking at them, and Emma was surprised to see a look of concern in his own eyes.

"Thank you," she suddenly said before she could think too much about it.

"For what?," he smiled, and Emma did so too.

"For standing up to me. Even if drowned in absinthe."

He just chuckled. "I do want this to work. I hope my ' _standing up to you drowned in absinthe_ ' guarantees you of that."

Emma leaned in to kiss him. She just ignored how aware of Killian being upstairs she was.

 

* * *

 

"So, people, how was the fantastic _day_ out in the woods?"

" _Ruby_ \--"

"No, really, I want to hear it all."

Killian sighed. "Well, Tink left. Literally. Like that, I woke up the next morning and she was gone, leaving only a note behind."

"Wow, that was a dick move," Ruby muttered. "And did she really screw up the energy?"

"Yeah," Emma answered, placing a pancake on her friend's plate.

"So you all did stuff to _warm up_?," she raised an eyebrow, the suggestion very clear in her voice tone.

"Ruby, _please_ \--"

"Hello, my dear friends I haven't seen in so long!," Victor greeted, coming out of his room. "Literally, guys, _one_ day. Didn't you even find _anything_ to do?"

They all groaned - Ruby's lips twitching, but it's not like anyone else noticed - and Emma remembered why she liked the both of them together so much.

It was nice to be home, no matter how long they were away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. LONG. TO GET THIS OUT. I literally missed writing Ruby. And Victor. Sorry if stuff might have been a bit vague or short, but muse was screaming for me to finish it. I'll try to make the next chapters the best I can.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT IS UP WITH COLIN O'DONOGHUE AND JENNIFER MORRISON I DONT EVEN KNOW SERIOUSLH I SWEAR TO GOD
> 
> Sooo, this was supposed to be two chapters because it was either two kinda short ones or a massive one, so obviously I stuck to a massive one. 
> 
> By the way, I'm glad the period I didn't post any chapters was not as long as the freaking three months of hiatus ok this story. OH OH and I don't know when next chapter will come because school's back next week and the week after that is mid term exams and guess who's excited to die lol not me.

" _This is dumb, Whale_ ," she heard from her bed, the passing voices out in the corridor taking her attention from her book. Getting up, she walked out the door and crossed her arms as she leaned on the wall, raising an eyebrow at the three men sitting on the couch.

"No, it's _not_ ," Victor insisted, and Emma didn't doubt it was probably the fifth time.

"It is," August agreed, rubbing his eyes.

"Guys, this is our chance to finally get out there!" He clapped Killian on the shoulder. "Come on, we'll go to a nightclub, select someone from the crowd and get laid tonight."

"That's disgusting," Emma commented matter-of-factly, and he ignored her.

"It's our chance to get back in the game."

"Whale, I'm sure you're as excited to do this as a dog who has not yet been castrated during mating time," August started, and Emma smiled, "but I don't want to go to a crappy nightclub to party."

"You're wrong," Victor stated, his lips on a thin line, and Emma moved over to the armchair near them, interested in whether they would give in to Whale's incessant pressure or not. August opened his mouth as if to interrupt him, but Whale moved on. "You don't know what you want. You've been alone for too long, man, you know you gotta get out there."

"No, I don't."

"Killian, help me out."

"Why on _earth_ would I help you out?," the man in question asked, and Emma could sense he was cranky that morning.

"Because you're my _mate_ ," Victor grinned.

Killian chuckled humourlessly though. "I have absolutely no clue on why you think using the terms I use will help you on this." The blonde's shoulders visibly dropped. "Besides, I don't want to go out tonight."

"Why not?"

"I have copious amounts of nothing to do."

"You're going out tonight."

" _Whale_ \--"

"No, shut up, you are. Both of you are."

August perked up. "Can Emma come?"

That's when she came in. "Whoa, do _not_ drag me into this." She had a hand raised in his direction.

"Exactly, she doesn't need to get out there, she's a woman and she's hot. Sorry, by the way," Whale was quick to add when her face turned disapproving. "Why would you even want her there, that would completely repel all the ladies."

"First, don't say ' _repel all the ladies_ '," August began. "Second, I just...," he trailed off, his shoulders repeatedly rising and falling as he shrugged nervously.

"What?," Killian pushed, a little grin on his face.

"I just haven't really, you know..."

"We don't, Booth," Victor said. "Spit it out."

"I haven't had sex in a while," he blurted, and Emma watched as his face went pink and Killian's damn eyebrow shot up.

"So?"

"I don't know, man, I just... I think I want it too much."

Whale let out a loud and quick ' _ha_ '. "I _told_ you you want it."

"What do you mean you ' _want it too much_ '?," Emma asked, suddenly interested.

"I can't properly flirt with women. I sort of just freeze, I can't really do anything besides stuttering words that don't even sound like words and having a strong wish to run off."

"You know what you have?," Victor suddenly got up, pointing at him. "Lack of confidence, but don't worry," he started walking to his room with a swagger on his feet, "I got plenty of it to lend to you."

Rolling her eyes at his insistent cockiness - seriously, the guy could outrun Killian if he felt like it - and raising her eyebrows at the two remaining guys, she shook her head. "Remind me again, why do we live with him?"

August scratched his beard. "Because... He pays the rent. I think."

 

* * *

 

 

As promised, Emma stayed at home. And she was _bored_.

Turned out she never really had the loft just for her for longer than ten minutes.

She knew she had a problem when she started checking her phone every two minutes, craving some notification that could temporarily distract her until the guys came home.

She tried napping, and was partly disappointed at herself for not feeling tired enough. These were the times she missed the summer chaos at work, those times where she had a perp almost everyday, making her arrive home completely exhausted, her energy being used to only change into her pyjamas and fall on bed. Now she slept till nine after going to bed at midnight. She felt _older_.

Shaking her head at the thought, she paced around the living area. Opening the fridge, tapping her fingers on the counter, softly kicking the side of the dining table, grazing her hands across the couch, always looking around, eyes pleading for some distraction.

She heard her phone chime in her bedroom, widening her eyes and rushing over, desperately grabbing and checking it. It was lame, but she couldn't help it.

It was a text from Ruby, the first thing said being an annoyed looking emoji:

_Granny set me up for a date._

_**How so?** _

_I don't even know, some friend of hers has a British nephew and she bribed me with new clothes_

_**Ruby, you need to be stronger** _

_DO YOU EVEN KNOW ME_

Chuckling at her friend's antics, she blocked the phone, throwing it at the bed in an act of frustration. How come there was nothing to do when she was alone?

She'd already tried the TV and the computer, watched every bad TV show she could handle and laughing through movie bloopers she hadn't even heard about.

But now she had nothing.

With a sigh, she grabbed a scissor on her corner table. She'd have to improvise.

 

* * *

 

It was two hours later when she looked around her, disappointed at herself once more. She didn't know she'd reach this level.

Surrounding her on the living area's floor, there were various kinds of crap she'd found and put together. There were large amounts of used tape, cut cardboard, many, many crumbled balls of paper - she had already apologised to the rainforest - and several styles of airplanes she'd completely ruined or assembled in a neat line. She'd just made an airport.

"You need to get a grip," she told herself out loud.

Throwing another paper plane to the distance, she sighed.

 

* * *

 

Another hour went by and she was starting to get crazy. She had tried everything.

Ruby was still on her date - she'd said they were going to the movies -, Walsh was stuck in meetings with people who actually understood or truly cared for furniture - seriously, a _meeting_ to talk about _furniture_ \- and she knew better than to disturb the her roommates.

Did she though?

She'd stared at their names on her phone as she pondered calling them, or even texting them. She knew August wouldn't mind, but he would come back and probably work on his book, stuffed out in his room, and Emma would end up here again. She knew disturbing Whale would result in shouts and annoyed huffs for the rest of the week - regardless of him possibly going out every night - and Killian would already be charming some random girl to take home with him.

She didn't know why that thought bothered her the most.

Maybe it was that idea that made her type various kinds of messages to him, but she always ended up deleting them. It was only when her screen was taken by the image of his face that she truly relaxed.

" _Why are you hovering?_ ," he swiftly asked, not even bothering to say hello. She could hear voices in the background, but nothing close to a nightclub.

"Are you at the bar?," she asked, dodging his question.

" _Aye, love, Whale got us kicked out of the club by flirting with one of the bartenders, who conveniently happened to be the owner's niece._ "

" _I did not_ ," she faintly heard Victor protest. " _She was throwing herself at me!_ "

" _Keep thinking like that, mate_ ," Killian chirped, and came back to speaking to her. " _Anyway, we headed back and August managed to speak with a girl. They're actually bonding right now_."

"Ooh," Emma uttered, happy he wasn't just telling her to piss off. "What's her name?"

" _I have no bloody clue. He shoos us every time we approach, so we haven't had the fortunate chance to speak with the git._ "

Chuckling, she waited for the incoming question.

" _Now, love, why were you hovering?_ "

 _Ah_. "I'm bored."

" _Why is it your priority that I am the first to know?_ "

She hesitated. "I assumed August would be useless to help me and Victor would just ignore me." She didn't really have anything to lose, she could as well be honest.

He just hummed. " _You're being a cooler._ "

"A what?" She was lightly taken aback he would sound even slightly accusatory.

" _A cooler. You want us to go back home._ "

 _Home_. It did feel like it. "No, I don't," she lied.

He just laughed, the bastard. " _Oh, darling, for someone so good at spotting lies, you're terrible at doing it yourself._ " _Damn it._

"Whatever; what's so bad about coming back?"

" _Whale and I are fighting over a woman who is inexplicably_ aroused _by sadness,_ " he stated in a peculiar voice, " _do you know in what position that puts me in?_ "

"A very good position?"

" _A bloody great position, exactly_ ," he concluded, and she could hear he was lowering his tone.

"Why don't you just bring her with you?"

He was silent on the other line for a moment before he hung up.

She smiled. _Victory_.

 

* * *

 

"Aurora, this is our roommate Emma. Emma, Aurora."

Emma could see the look on the woman's face mirrored her thoughts on them having a girl for a roommate. Either way, she held out a hand. "Nice to meet you."

They exchanged pleasantries and Emma finally crouched to gather the stuff she'd left on the floor. When they had arrived, she was sat on the ground, legs outstretched in front of her as she tried to perfect one of her planes.

 _Sure_ , she was grateful Killian was considerate enough to come home, but she didn't expect this many people in so little time.

There were her three roommates, Aurora, the princess in a collected little suit jacket and a scolding look, and a girl she did not recognise standing beside August. She could also see the ring on the latter's finger, and was confused on why she was even there.

She heard a sigh behind her and blushed slightly - hopefully, at least - when she felt Killian's body's warmth on her side as he crouched next to her.

"Let me help you with that, love," he muttered. She knew it was the neat freak in him speaking. "What the bloody hell were you even doing?"

"Try spending four hours alone at the loft, then tell me how _easy_ it is," she snapped, and got up, careful to balance all the crap she made on her arms and padded to her bedroom, dumping it all in a corner. Picking all of that up and put it in the trash would take a plastic bag and she was definitely not in the mood for cleaning now.

She didn't need to look at him to know he had a grimace on his face. "Are you picking that up?"

"Some day," she teased, finally looking over her shoulder at him. He just shook his head, dropping the rest of the stuff on the forming pile.

"Well, Swan, you suggested we brought the girls in, now _you're_ responsible for entertainment," he began, sitting next to her on the bed.

She scoffed. "I _do not_ need to be involved in what you do to Aurora."

He just raised his eyebrows. "Whale's still onto something, he won't let me go anywhere alone with her." He scratched his beard. "I personally think he's insecure that she'll jump on me when she has the chance, and I frankly have to agree with him on that one."

He was trying to lighten the suddenly tense mood and she was thankful. With a chuckle, Emma shrugged. "I don't know. Try to lure her into playing True American." She then snorted. "Yeah, like _that's_ gonna happen."

He'd perked up and she was scared. "You know, love, that could actually be a good idea. With one condition though." She looked at him expectantly as he stretched the silence for drama. "You're the president. And it has to go Clinton rules."

"Clinton rules?"

"Aye, it's sort of like that sexy poker thing Whale nags for us to play, just better."

"How is it in anyway better?" Maybe she was spooked at the thought, but she would be lying if she didn't say she was interested.

"We're more drunk, and running around. Not stuck in a table where anyone could properly stare you down." He had a smirk on his lips as his gaze peered into hers and she swallowed. She didn't know if he was teasing her or really unconsciously making an innuendo.

Clearing her throat, she only saw one way out. Standing up, she motioned to the door. "Lead the way, captain."

He grinned at the use of the moniker.

This was definitely entertainment, right?

 

* * *

 

_Hell yes._

Apparently, all of them had agreed in playing True American with Clinton rules, no matter how awkward that would be for all of them.

But, of course, as usual, after a couple of beers, they were all a bit more... _Loose_.

As promised, Emma was quickly elected the President, and Killian the Vice President. They were already jumping around, all yells and shouts and laughter. They weren't even ten minutes into the game, for God's sake.

Even in her tipsy state, Emma could still see the ongoing battle for Aurora's attention. Killian sometimes softly pulled her by the wrist, saved her from falls, told her tales from when he still lived in London. Whale had already lost a shirt and talked about his abs, told her about his late nights at the ER and complained about impolite patients.

Emma could see she was struggling to keep up, the alcohol catching on to her and probably fuzzing her mind.

The other girl, Mulan, kept close to August and they wouldn't stop talking. At some point of the game, they camped out behind the counter and just _stayed_ there. Emma didn't know what they were doing - she didn't know if she wanted to.

The game was at its full swing, and after a while, it suddenly _calmed_.

The four remaining were sat on the dining table's top, Killian next to Emma and Victor next to Aurora.

"It's not fair you had an undershirt," Whale was complaining, and Emma rolled her eyes. "Everyone here doesn't have a shirt on."

Which was partly true. Emma had lost hers when she fell from the armchair - no harm done -. She was glad no one was ogling.

"Aurora still has hers," the dark haired pointed at her, a distant look on the girl's face.

"But she had a _blazer_ on, Jones, you had a shirt!"

"Alright!," Emma shouted, shutting both up. "Alright. There's only one way to solve this." She noticed Whale was being an ass, but so was Killian. They had to decide on something. "We'll raise a number from one to four to our foreheads with our fingers. Whichever pair chooses the same number has to go behind the Iron Curtain," she pointed at the massive sliding iron door they had separating the living area from the bedrooms, "and _kiss_. There needs to be a clear evidence of tongue. No negotiations."

Killian grinned. "This is why I voted for you."

After a few seconds of instructions thrown at Aurora - who looked lost and vague by now - they fell into silence.

Emma exchanged looks with all of them and nodded. "Okay. One, two, _three_!"

She hadn't paid attention to the suggestions the two men barked to Aurora, but she noticed the girl didn't either. She had three fingers raised, Whale four and, when she looked over at Killian, he'd raised two. Shoulders sagging, she frowned.

How many did _she_ raise?

It was when Victor's jaw dropped and he pointed at hers and Killian's foreheads that she sobered up in realisation.

She had raised two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I managed to pull a cliffhanger._ Fear me. 
> 
> But it's not exactly a cliffhanger if you've watched the show. But its come to my knowledge that there are a few of you who've not watched it so yEAH FEAR ME.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP my phone charger died and the phone ran out of battery for two days until the new charger arrived, so I think time without portable technology gives you inspiration and gUESS WHAT I DID LAST NIGHT IN AN HOUR
> 
> yes i wrote

They had been pushed by everyone behind the so called Iron Curtain and actually been locked up by their friends. They had nowhere to go except the bedrooms and the bathroom.

"Let us out!," Killian's shout sounded like the last when his shoulders sagged. She pursed his lips, crossing her arms in front of her chest when she realised she was still not wearing anything over her bra - at least she still had her jeans on. Not that _that_ was much.

He turned around slowly, his jaw tensed. She blinked, licking her lips.

"I now recognise I might have somehow been your cooler," she admitted.

His nostrils widened when he exhaled heavily. "You think?"

She didn't reply, settling for sitting against her own door, her head lolling backwards until it hit the wood with a dull thud. "What are we going to do?" She had closed her eyes, sure she would not be able to bear the awkwardness if she saw the look on his.

He sighed again, and she didn't need to look at him to know he'd be running his fingers through his hair in a nervous move. "I've no clue."

Silence fell upon them and Emma found a slight feeling of despair pound against her ribcage in the same rhythm as her heart. What were they going to do? Emma couldn't just _kiss_ him.

It also wasn't like he was a brother to her. If she had to kiss August, she was sure they'd be done and over with it, a kiss that would obviously mean nothing for the pure fact that Emma never really felt anything for him besides fondness. Even with _Victor_ it would be simpler. But with Killian...

Emma didn't exactly forget or neglect the obvious tension between them since day one. She couldn't forget how oddly attracted she felt when he opened the door that first day and frowned at her, as if he didn't expect a woman to apply for a roommate. She couldn't just ignore the way her heart still raced a bit when he was a tad too close, when he fixed her jacket or her hair, how his skin felt like fire against her own, the slight graze of it over hers bringing chills up her spine as if he'd burned her. She just couldn't.

Now the prospective of _actually_ _kissing_ him? Why would she even suggest the ' _clear evidence of tongue_ ' thing, that was just stupid. What was she even thinking?

It's not like she would particularly appreciate the thought of Killian making out with a woman on her own command - which _definitely_ sounded weirder than it should - and actually enjoying it; she'd not only grown fond - or more - of him all these months, but she had also grown protective of him. If anything bad happened to him, like a sexual partner - _only_ \- abandoning him and leaving him high and dry, she would blame herself.

_Ugh, what a nightmare._

"We have to do this," she heard Killian say, snapping her out of her internal reverie. "They're not letting us out."

 _Yes_ , Emma _was_ screaming on the inside, but years working in bail bonds taught her how to steel herself of inner feelings and to put up a mask of blankness or whatever the hell she chose. She looked up at him, scowling. "We should just do this thing."

He blinked at her. "Okay, first, don't say ' _do this thing_ ', it's already bad enough we were forced to come in here, love."

"Whatever, Jones," she got up, rolling her eyes. "Let's just do it and get this over with."

"See, _that's_ my point," he motioned to her. She was partly glad his eyes never left hers as he spoke.

She again didn't reply, turning to the door and banging on it. "Guys, let us out!"

Killian assumed the same position as her, and they spent about two minutes begging for the assholes outside to let the go.

" _Give up, guys_ ," she heard August say, his voice muffled.

" _Come on, Inspector Gadget, inspect those tonsils_ ," Victor - obviously - quipped, and she saw Killian grimace at the man's choice of words.

"Stay out of this, Whale," she shouted back, her forehead resting against the surface.

"August, mate!," he then smiled, as if August himself could see it. "Come on, it's your best friend Killian begging you to let him out."

Whale, however, ignored her wishes. " _Just give Emma a tender, sensual kiss..._ " _Jesus Christ_. "... _and we will let you right out_."

"Shut up, Whale!," Killian yelled at the same time Emma did.

 

* * *

 

It had already been fifteen minutes of stalling, random words, desperate attempts in luring the others into opening the door, all of those ending to be pointless.

With a final huff, Emma got up from her reclaimed spot in against her door and stood a few feet from Killian as he tried to find weak spots on the door - they were running out of options.

"Let's just _do it_!," she insisted, her hands falling from her hips.

He turned his head around, looking at her as if she were crazy for a moment, then recomposing himself - as much as he could, at least.

Emma never thought she'd get to see actual shy Killian Jones right before kissing someone, no matter who that person was.

He fiddled with the hammer in his hand - a _hammer_. What exactly was he even _trying_ to do with it? -, his other hand rising to scratch behind his ear, his eyes not meeting hers. He had no smirk on his lips, nor amusement in his eyes. He was truly nervous about this, and Emma didn't know why.

She decided to continue, regardless of whatever consequences there could be. "Haven't you done this a million times, why would it be any different?" She didn't mean it as an insult or anything close to it, but the phrase itself sounded slightly accusing. He didn't seem fazed though.

He let out a short laugh, his mouth conforming into a quick grin before resuming its pursed stance. "Aye, I suppose." He dropped the hammer into his tool box, rubbing his hands on his face for a second before shaking his head quickly. "Okay, Swan; _hey_ , this is not a big deal." He seemed to be tranquillising himself too.

She stepped closer to him, even it just a bit, and saying her heart was racing would be a massive understatement. "Okay, not a big deal. Let's just do it."

"Fine."

"Let's just do it."

"Okay."

"Great, yeah."

"I'm doing it." He grinned a bit, and held back her own smile, because he was fidgeting and it was adorable, but she was also ridiculously nervous.

"Fine, then do it."

He leaned in slightly, and she felt him hands settle on her upper arms, the warm presence of them very noticeable over her bare skin - she still didn't believe she wasn't wearing a shirt. _Damn him for dragging me into this_ -, but he suddenly stopped.

"Are you a tongue-er?"

"Am I a _tongue-er_?," she repeated, the annoyed tone on her voice clearer than she would like. She didn't expect him to just _pull back_ a of a sudden.

"I don't want to put my tongue in your mouth if you don't like it."

He was stalling, she knew it. "Just kiss me!" The statement sounded foreign on her tongue, but she would be lying if she said the glint that came to his eyes didn't make her stomach twist and turn in anticipation.

"Alright, I will, I'm doing it." He was rubbing his hands up and down her arm and it was infuriatingly distracting.

"Just do it."

He then leaned in, and she found herself _panicking_. She felt the need to do something. " _Wait_." He stopped - damn _her_ , now - and looked at her, and she could see the annoyance and confusion etched on his infinite blue eyes - honestly, they were impossible. "Your face!"

What was she even talking about, his face was _just fine._

"My _face_?," he repeated, now amused.

"Yes, you can't do that with your face."

"Alright, I'll try to do something else with my face." _The poor man._

He leaned forward again, but now she had a good reason - or so she believed - to stop again. "You can't kiss with your _teeth_!"

"Okay," he started, stepping away from her and walking back to the door. "I can't ... _no_ , I can't do this..."

"Well, you can't try to kiss me like a _Joker_ and expect--"

"Okay, you're..." He banged on the door yet again. "Let me out of here!"

She rolled her eyes. They would never get out of there, she was now sure.

 

* * *

 

Another few minutes had passed - honestly, she didn't even know how many anymore - and she heard a commotion outside. Hushing Killian, she listened.

It was Ruby.

 _Perfect_. Now they were _really_ never going to get out of there.

She rubbed her forehead, resting her back on the door and sliding down until she was sat on the floor. There was no point in fighting it anymore, was there?

Killian sat beside her, his eyes closing and his head rested back just like she had done what felt like an hour before. It was probably less.

She sighed. "Okay, Jones, I might even understand I can be your cooler sometimes, but in most of the rare occasions, you're your _own_ cooler."

He frowned, as if that possibility was utterly impossible. "What the _bloody hell_ do you mean?"

"I'm just saying, sometimes you're so lurking and brooding, you scare people away," she blurted. "Just some _basic_ cheering up, and more girls would be throwing themselves at you."

"Some basic cheering up?," he asked, a grin on his face. "What about my mysterious, brooding appearance?"

"You know, that's not everyone's type," she turned her head to look at him, an eyebrow raised. His shoulder was brushing hers and, even after an hour or so of running and jumping around and drinking, he smelled _amazing_ , the bastard.

"Is it yours?," he teased, and she didn't want to reply, because she _could_ use some mysterious and brooding. Not that he needed to know it. He laughed, the sound bringing a now familiar fluttering to her stomach. "You really _do_ want to kiss me."

 _What a cocky asshole_ , it was almost endearing. "In your dreams, Jones," she shook her head, a smile of her own settling on her lips.

He sighed. "Always, darling."

She was definitely very much screwed, she concluded after the fluttering turned into full on racing heart, chills and burning face.

" _Emma?_ "

 _Oh_ , yes, she had a boyfriend. A boyfriend she completely forgot even existed. _That's just great._ She heard Walsh's voice before she could even kick herself out of the haze Killian's close presence brought her, and she jumped up. "Walsh?"

" _What's wrong? I got your texts and came as fast as I could_." She might have sent him a few messages about, not being bored, but some actual threat and danger.

"Oh," she laid her forehead on the cool surface of the door. "No, yeah, don't worry about that."

" _What are you doing back there?_ "

"I'm stuck here until I kiss Killian," she just blurted out. No point in hiding it now, right?

She head a few muffled, unintelligible murmurs outside, then the hiss of a new beer being opened. She could freaking _believe_ her roommates.

Less than five minutes later, _he had already joined the chanting 'KISS! KISS! KISS!_ ' everyone else had shouted from the start.

 

* * *

 

"Okay, let's just do this already."

She huffed, stepping closer to him for the fifth time that night. She was already getting tired of it all. "Just kiss me."

He leaned in again, and stepped back, and she nearly smacked him right there. "No, I'm not gonna kiss you." _Are you kidding?_

"Kiss me!"

"Emma, stop!"

"God, Jones, just _kiss me_ already!"

"No, not like this!"

 _Wait_. "What?" What had he just said? Why had he said it? "What does that mean?"

It was like he hadn't wanted to say that, his face contorting into a nearly painful expression, which was probably a reflexion of what he felt inside. Not that she was much better.

"No, I didn't... _Nothing_. I just, I didn't mean it like that." He was stuttering, and in any other situation she would have stopped and laughed over the fact he looked like a flustered teenager, but right now, the emotion he'd carried in his words suddenly felt too much for her.

They settled into a quick argument composed by mostly unintelligible noises and words, most of them revolving around ' _what did that even mean_ ' and ' _nothing, it meant nothing_ ' and ' _forget about it_ '.

He suddenly fell silent, his shoulders tense, and he entered his bedroom. She followed him, variations of ' _what the hell are you doing_ ' leaving her mouth before she even realised it, and she didn't understand it when he opened his window and stepped out to the fire escape.

"Where are you going?," she asked him, a bit louder, and he just raised a hand, going out of vision as he descended the stairs to the street. He had an undershirt on and was barefoot, his hair a right mess, so she didn't have a clue of where he was going.

But he did leave her alone, and she called him very ugly names under her breath as she resumed her position on the floor.

A few moments later, she heard the front door open violently and close in a bang.

" _How the hell did you even get out?_ ," an outraged Whale asked.

" _I'm a magician_ ," Killian deadpanned, and she head a light smack, probably given by the dark haired to Victor. " _Shazam_."

Suddenly the door behind her was being opened and Emma got up, seeing the 'let's just not talk about this' look in his eyes as she thanked him for geting her out from their prison. He only grinned and winked in response.

She swallowed. What happened that night?

 

* * *

 

"That was _awesome_ , dude," Walsh was saying, his arms lazily - sloppily - thrown over Emma's shoulders as she helped him stay upright as he talked to Killian, who just nodded. "Seriously, I don't think _anyone_ would have thought of that." He looked so serious, anyone would assume they were discussing important matters. Then his mouth broke into a massive grin. "You ran down the fire escape just so you wouldn't kiss her," he laughed, his arm tightening around her. It wasn't often Walsh got drunk, but when he did, he went all out. Emma was learning how to handle his drunken self. "Well, you have no idea what you're missing." He attempted lightly resting his head over hers, but he just ended painfully bumping them together. She chuckled slightly when he ran out of breath after laughing, but she couldn't take her eyes off Killian.

He was also smiling, something softer than earlier. "I'm an idiot."

She smiled thankfully at him and tugged on Walsh's arm, guiding him to her bedroom, sparing Killian one last glance over her shoulder before walking through the door.

 

* * *

 

She couldn't sleep. She'd tried _everything_ , but Walsh's abnormally loud snoring beside her and her thoughts made it impossible.

She got up to go grab a hot cocoa, as it mostly helped her sleep when she couldn't, and she just hoped it would work.

What she didn't see coming, though, was Killian on the counter, hunched over the previous day's newspaper's crossword puzzle, a mug of something beside the paper.

He looked up when she approached in the darkness, the only light source being a tiny lamp over the oven. "Couldn't sleep?," he asked her softly. She shook her head. "I've learned working my mind helps," he gestured towards the paper.

"Why couldn't _you_ sleep?," she asked him as she prepared her mug of cocoa.

He just shrugged. "I have no idea." _Lie_. She pretended she didn't detect it, but it was obvious he knew why he couldn't sleep. But if he didn't want to tell her, she wouldn't push it. So she hummed, appreciating the comfortable silence settled between them.

She'd always liked these domestic moments between them, and even the ones between her other roommates. Making pancakes or hot cocoa, getting groceries together, tidying up the place, scolding each other about an aspect of the house.

She heard him drop the pen when she was done, and raised an eyebrow when he stood up from the stool and folded the newspaper, tossing it over the dining table nearby. When she started walking away from the oven, he was already turning off the light, and she left the mug on the sink without really knowing if it had been the sink or not.

She did see him motion towards the bedrooms and smiled in the dark. He was a gentleman, after all, was he not?

"How can your mind even properly function at 3 am?," she promptly asked,by he question nagging at her brain until she let it out.

He shrugged. "Maybe I try harder and I get more tired. I think it's even why I can sleep after."

They had stopped in front of both their bedrooms, at arm's length of each other. Emma didn't know if it was both of them or just her. She felt as if she couldn't exactly be too close from him or she could just crack. Her very strong shell would start breaking and all the walls she spent years building would start falling to pieces, because that was what he did to her. He slowly reached inside of her, without pushing or pressuring. And that made him really scary for Emma.

She had to leave that place. "Well," she sighed. "Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight," she heard him reply as she already turned around, but her breath hitched when she felt his hand grabbing her arm, turning her around. What was he doing?

She didn't have time to think, and, before she knew it, his lips were on hers.

She didn't know what got into her. She didn't know why she responded, but she felt better than she could _possibly_ allow herself to be. If it was too good, it meant it wouldn't last. If she recognised it was too good, it could just slip away.

So why was she kissing him back? Why did she allow her hands to run up his chest and her arms to wrap around his neck? Why did she lean into his warm, comfortable embrace, pressing her body impossibly closer to his? Why was she doing any of it?

Why was she kissing him back?

It ended as abruptly as it had started. He pulled back after they both ran out of air; something she didn't really understand, the haze caused by the kiss still fogging her mind and senses, being whispered a few inches from her face. It sounded like ' _I meant something like this_ '.

She didn't know why that had happened at all. She also didn't know what to think.

He then stepped back, rushing into his room without a last glance at her direction. She touched her tingling lips, breathless.

She did know one thing, though.

He tasted of hot cocoa with cinnamon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lolz. I've literally been waiting to write this since I started this story. Well. Tis here.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo. It's been two months. 
> 
> Yeah you know I'm sorry for the wait, but honestly, most of this chapter was written. It has been written for over a month. 
> 
> It was also turning out a little too big, so I took a chunk and that plus what I have to finish will be next chapter. 
> 
> I honestly don't know when it'll be up, I just know life's been slightly crazy and now it'll probably be even more. By the way, when someone confirms it, I have something to say that will happen in January that may or may not affect the chapters.

No matter what Emma tried, she couldn't sleep. She didn't know if it was guilt, confusion or the ghost of his lips over hers. 

She stole a glance or two at Walsh, his constant snores mocking her insomnia. He wasn't facing her, his wild hair the only thing visible from where she was lying.

Emma was scared of leaving the room. She could have gone and made a hot cocoa for herself hours ago, but she couldn't; not when she could bump into Killian as soon as she stepped out of the door.

Put in her to do list: _never to have a hot male roommate again._

 

* * *

 

It was already clear outside, the sunlight entering her room through her open curtains, and she sighed when will defeated good sense, stretching to grab her phone on the bedside table. It was eight thirty, and she was impressed she made it so far.

Getting up slowly, she didn't take her eyes off of Walsh as she walked to the door and opened, only looking forwards when she heard a strangled curse. It was _Killian_ , and was he creeping behind her door?!

"N-- what are you _doing_?!," she hissed at him, closing the door softly so they wouldn't wake Walsh - her _boyfriend_.

"I wasn't doing anything!," was his desperate response in the same tone, stepping back with his hands raised in defeat.

"No, _don't_ walk away from this," she warned him as he silently stepped into the shadows then into his room. She huffed an exasperated breath. That is exactly why she didn't want to bump into Mr Responsibility.

She went back into her room quietly, her forehead marred with a frown, and lay back on the bed. Walsh stirred at her moving, and slowly came into his senses - soundly yawning when doing so.

"'Morning, beautiful." She blushed slightly, his eyes finally opening to look at her. He sighed, his hand tucking under the pillow and taking out his phone - that was something she'd never really understood. There was a nightstand _right there_. "Let's see here... _Ooh_ , ten emails. Nice," he added, his hand raising in a fist.

She stared at it before bumping hers into it. She tried not to grimace at the action.

"Um, Walsh?" She was going to do this. _It's now or never._ "I need to tell you something."

"How do you always look _so_ beautiful in the morning?," he instead replied when he looked up at her. She was speechless, his sudden compliment catching her off guard. "Sometimes I can't even look at you," he smiled, and she couldn't help but do the same. "But what were you going to tell me?"

She suddenly couldn't. "Nothing," she said softly after a moment, adverting her gaze.

She knew it was going to explode in her face later, so she needed to find a reasonable solution.

 

* * *

 

Ruby opened her door with a smile on her face. "Hi, Ems." When she saw the frantic look on her friends face, her face fell. "What's wrong?"

"He kissed me."

"What?"

"Killian."

" _What_?!" She was leaning on the doorframe, eyes wide in disbelief. "Get in."

Emma stomped in, Ruby behind her, and didn't even bother sitting down. She had to let everything out now or else she would _explode_ , and was more than sure Ruby was the right person to do it with.

"Okay," her friend started, settling on her couch. " _Talk_."

And she did. Boy, she did. She didn't know for how long she spoke, but she explained the game, what they were doing, what Killian - _Killian_ \- had done and what negative feelings she had about it.

"How was it?," the brunette asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"He just _grabbed_ me, and then he was kissing me." Emma rubbed her forehead, trying to stop her face from heating up just by the memory of it.

"Yeah, but _how_ was it?"

She sighed. "It was..." Emma stopped her pacing, staring at her friend warily. "Why do you want to know that?"

Ruby laid her head back, hitting the couch. "Ugh, I miss it. I miss everything about it."

"What?"

"Sex!"

She closed her eyes. "This isn't _sex_ , Ruby."

She lifted her head, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh, so you're telling me you walked away thinking about how _cute_ Walsh is after that kiss?"

Emma didn't answer, knowing better than to try to fight her off the idea - partly because she knew she wouldn't have any reasonable arguments -, and sighed. "I was like Scarlett O'Hara in my freaking curtain dress." She rubbed her temples, restarting her pacing. "I have to tell Walsh. But I _can't_ tell him."

Ruby was quiet for a minute, and Emma didn't expect the question she asked. "Emma, do you... _Like_ Killian?"

Halting her steps again, Emma didn't hesitate, of course. "Are you insane? Of course not, he's my idiot roommate. I like _Walsh_ , because Walsh is the kind of guy who fixes things you didn't even know were broken. He literally owns a furniture shop. And Killian is the kind of guy who just breaks things instead of fixing them, physical or emotional."

"You're panicking," her friend pointed out, and she ignored.

"I can't go back to the loft, he just glides into the shadows every time I get near him."

"He _glides_ into the shadows?"

"Yeah, he does that sometimes, to run away from unwanted subjects or whatever."

"I think I actually have a solution for that," Ruby exclaims, straightening her back. Emma perched up. "My grandmother's told me about this event that's happening today, and I've been thinking of going: it's a sort of a dating convention."

"A dating _convention_?," the blonde raised an eyebrow, her hands on her waist.

"Yeah, imagine a dating website, just in real life."

"Ruby, you do realise I'm freaking out about this because I _have_ a boyfriend, right?"

She shrugged. "You can just watch. You said it yourself you can't go back to the loft, and it would be nice to have my best friend there with me." At Emma's frown of consideration, she got up. "There's a free bar," she proposed.

"Maybe that's exactly what I need...," she muttered.

"Yay!"

 

* * *

 

"How many people are even here?"

"Granny said it's about two hundred," Ruby answered.

"If this is a sort of a dating thing, why isn't it fuller?" That was a fair question, and Emma had been thinking of it all the way there. "Do you make reservations or something?"

"The people who can actually join in are a part of a kind of a circle," she explained. "Something to do with ancestral crap and everything. Granny is apparently a part of that circle, so I rightfully am too."

"What about me?"

"You're not joining in, are you?"

"Yeah, but what if I wanted to?," Emma insisted. It was all too confusing. "Would they kick me out or whatever?"

"I don't know, Ems. I'm just telling you what Granny told me."

They finally arrived at the sign up table, the woman behind it looking oddly stern and serious for this type of event. She looked up when they approached.

"Hi, my name is Ruby Lucas, I called ahead; and I would like to check in, please." It was amazing how much Ruby's personality changed depending on who she was talking to.

The woman looked from her to Emma. "And you?"

"Oh, she's my best friend, she's just here to watch."

"All must participate if they are somehow connected to the rightful participants," the lady said, picking up a clipboard from the table. "We've had a lot of trouble with _watchers_."

Ruby looked at her, half pleading, half worried, and Emma decided to take a leap of faith, just like someone had told her to not too long ago.

She sighed. "Okay. What the hell, right?" The blonde nodded, and the woman picked up yet another clipboard, giving both of them the ones she took.

"Fill this formulary: information, education, resume." The look on her face was still stern when she handed them pens. "What you write will serve as guide to separate tables."

"I'm sorry, _tables_?," Ruby apparently couldn't help but ask.

"Yes. Participants will be separated in thirty three different tables. Each table will have participants with similar information."

Emma narrowed her eyes, gulping slightly. Would bail bondsperson be considered a good profession? She did go to college, even if her time there went by in a rush, years and years of _Ruby_ sort of just mending together, with her incessant parties and unstoppable will of living life the best way she could. And of course she would drag Emma into it. It was probably there she understood she could get info out of people by pretending to be someone she wasn't and/or tackling them later if they were either disrespectful or just generally assholes.

Emma walked up to a corner as Ruby continued to ask some questions about the event, filling in her name, place and date of birth and such. At some point she could swear she heard a voice that sounded an awfully disturbing lot like Victor Whale's, but she shook her head without even looking up; the voice disappeared a second later.

"...I attempted to be a lawyer," was what she heard to make her head snap up, because _no way in hell._

Her eyes were suddenly fixed on Killian, Victor - so she did hear it right, _damn it_ \- and even _August_. How could they _possibly_ know they were there?

Her first thought was that; her second thought was what could she possibly do to avoid Killian; and her third was why we Whale wearing a heavy coat with a furry hemmed hood and snow boots.

When she felt Killian's eyes on her, she returned the shocked look. " _What are you doing here?!_ ," she mouthed, and saw the moment Killian despaired. In one swift move, he was out of the room, following the walls, freaking _gliding into the shadows._

She rolled her eyes - she should have seen it coming.

August didn't seem to pick up whatever was boiling between Emma and Killian, but followed the latter either way, confusion sketched on his face.

"Emma," Ruby called her, turning her back to Whale. "What's going on?"

With a sigh, she rubbed her forehead. "It seems like last night's events have consequences. And now is the time for them to come up."

With a hiss of sympathy, she put a hand on the blonde's shoulder and lingered for a second or two, returning then to Whale's side and their previous discussion - apparently, something about how their ' _sex was more then sex_ '. She didn't know what she expected.

When those two were gone into the saloon nearby, she placed herself in front of the desk, filling the last boxes and lines in her formulary. Quickly giving it back to Scary Lady, she was turning her back when she heard it.

"Swan."

Breathing in deeply, she closed her eyes for a moment. _Keep composure, you're in public._

"What?," she asked lowly when she fully turned around and opened her eyes.

"I only meant to tell you that last night..." He paused, as if recalling what happened, and an uncomfortable feeling settled on he stomach. "Didn't mean anything." She raised her eyebrows, surprised he even pulled out the guts to say that. Killian Jones, with a Ferris Wheel sized ego and an even bigger pride, was _apologising_. "It was an impulsive, uncalled for move, and I shouldn't have done it. I sincerely apologise."

He sounded genuine enough, but there was _something_ in there... "So you're saying it didn't mean anything?," she asked, thankful her voice wasn't as breathy and rough as she thought it would be.

"Aye, precisely," he replied, his hands in his pockets.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "But _you_ kissed _me_." He tilted his head, blinking. "So it should have meant something to _you_."

"It didn't mean anything, love."

"Then _why_ did you kiss me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best point in the whole two chapters this has become to be a cliffhanger. And I like it even more because no one, not even those who have watched New Girl, know what's his answer and I'm internally laughing as if I'm a villain someone stop me


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to post this today because it's better than waiting for the bigger chapter so yay. 
> 
> Also IM GOING TO LONDON FOR A MONTH IN JANUARY AND I HOPE THAT BRINGS ME LOADS OF INSPIRATION

"Why did you kiss me, Killian?," she asked again, urging him on when all he did was gulp. 

"It was an impulse," he finally said, his mouth stretching in a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "We were playing a game and I was just continuing it."

"But the game had ended _hours_ before," she pressed on, wanting a _reasonable_ explanation so she could sort her ideas out and throw away whatever emotions she was feeling right now. She was supposed to feel like that for her _boyfriend_ , not her roommate.

"You're being quite persistent about this, love; are you sure it didn't mean anything to _you_?," he narrowed his eyes, and she almost let her jaw drop slightly because _how dare he_.

" _Please_ \--"

"It _did_ mean something to you!," he exclaimed, a genuine grin settling on his lips upon his teasing.

"It didn't, Jones, stop saying that," she complained. It was all she could do to not stomp her foot on the floor and cross her arms like a petulant child.

His eyebrows shot up, a smirk on his lips.

"Stop it," she refrained herself from slapping it away. At least this side of his was back, the _annoy-the-hell-out-of-Emma_ mode - the one she could actually handle. She preferred this over big eyes, kicked puppy look he had this morning and about two minutes ago.

With an exasperated huff, she marched away firmly, hoping to find Ruby somewhere and tell her what happened - she needed to unload her thoughts.

When a voice sounded over speakers somewhere telling the participants to grab their table number and sit down, she sighed. Apparently, her inner turmoil would have to wait.

Heading towards the signalised desk, she tried to smile when a kind looking old lady handed her a sticker with the number 7 on it - she failed; it felt like a grimace - and pressed it against her chest to stick it on. Walking over to said table, she was glad to find August cheerfully chatting with a ginger she had never seen.

"Hey, August."

"Good morning, Emma," he replied as she sat down, his voice somewhat restrained.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know," he sounded sarcastic, and she feared he knew. "I don't know whether to blame Killian or the both of you."

 _Ugh, crap_. "August--"

"I already asked him and he said he didn't know, so I ask you: what the hell were you thinking?" He looked annoyed. She _felt_ annoyed.

"Whoa, remember _he_ kissed me?," she defended, and almost growled when he didn't seem fazed by that.

"And did you stop him?," he asked lowly, and she wanted to punch him for reading her so well.

"Well, _no_ , but--"

"See, that is exactly what I'm saying. If you two start dancing around each other, avoiding whatever made you do that, I'll move out before one of you do."

"I'm not moving out because one of my roommates kissed me, August," she clarified. "We're not teenagers, we can solve this as adults."

August sighed, leaning heavily back against the chair. "I hope Killian follows the same idea," he muttered, his eyes passing her shoulder. Turning around as subtly as she could, she spied Killian in table 23, his head resting on his arms as he peeled off the label of his freshly ordered beer.

She was actually impressed she made it to table 7; apparently, bail bonds was a decent enough job. How did _August_ get there, though?

"Where's Victor?," she couldn't help but ask, having already spotted Ruby sitting with her head down across Killian at table 23.

"I think he's in table 2," the dark haired man replied.

"I always forget _that_ human being has a great job and professional life," she gritted out, angry at Whale for having such a stable lifestyle.

At least his love life was a mess currently. She _knew_ that was a mean thing to think of, but it irritated her that every aspect of her life she wasn't fully satisfied with was _perfect_ in his: his job, his mind, his income. She was ashamed to think that at least her love life was stable - well, at least it _used_ to be - while he spent days planning and plotting for ways to enter Ruby's life again. She had to be extremely selfish there.

"I bet fifteen bucks they're going home together tonight," August interrupted their shared silence.

She didn't have to ask who he was talking about. "Me too."

 

* * *

 

She'd texted Walsh quickly right after Killian and the guys had arrived.

**_So I'm with Ruby at a dating event. Wanna come over?_ **

_Send me the address and I'll be there soon_

She smiled when he replied after a minute.

It was refreshing to see him walking through the door and immediately spotting her, heading towards her. He greeted her, calling her ' _sweetheart_ ' and kissing the crown of her head, and her heart thumped with fear when it didn't feel as warm and comforting as it used to.

"What table are you in?," she asked, raising her head - and ignoring the weird feeling in her belly. The _bad_ weird - and looking at his chest.

"2. Apparently running your own business is very nice," he joked, and she laughed with him.

"Hey, Victor's in that table," August pointed out, gesturing towards the man in question.

"Should I worry?," he asked.

"Yes," Emma and August said in unison.

 

* * *

 

They apparently had to complete some activities, Scary Lady saying the different situations made them see who had the largest physical and mental bond.

The first activity was a stupid one. It _sounded_ stupid at least: they formed a circle and held hands, each person having to pass through a hula hoop. It seemed simple, but it was hard. _Very_ hard.

She watched as Victor didn't blink when Ruby attempted to pass through the hoop, her body doing strange movements so she could do it. It would have absolutely disgusted Emma if she didn't know there was more to it then just the physical attraction he felt.

It was incredibly difficult for her and Walsh to succeed too. He would tell her to raise her arm as he lowered his and do the opposite. Maybe she was taking it _too_ seriously - after all, she already _had_ a boyfriend - but, to her, for the entire ten minutes they played, he was just not taking it seriously _enough_. She didn't know what to think by the end of it, specially with Killian distracting her with his dancing eyebrows and widening grin.

She decided to confront him about it, and spent five minutes looking for him in the slightly crowded room, only to find him by the window sipping his beer.

With a smack to his arm - she was immensely satisfied when he choked on his drink - and a huff, she demanded him to control his eyebrows.

"Perhaps you feel this vexed because you know I'm right," he pushed, body leaning in momentarily. "Why are you drinking my beer?" He sounded utterly confused, and she didn't even notice she'd done it; she was just thirsty, and didn't have the patience to wait for her own drink.

Ignoring his inquiry, she pointed a finger at him. "Don't try to be funny."

He's about to reply when he's interrupted by Scary Lady's voice.

"Next activity: build a table out of newspaper and tape," she spoke, her voice more cheerful, and Emma couldn't help but wonder why the sudden change. "Pick your partners: women, look to your left; men, to your right."

Emma did as asked, but was already groaning before even fully turning towards Killian. "Really?," she muttered under her breath.

They spent the next twenty minutes bickering ("It didn't mean anything to me, Emma." "Of course it did, look at you!") and not paying the least attention to the table being built. Emma knew they kept furiously folding and rolling up paper, wasting so much tape she didn't know how it didn't run out.

Their banter, however, was interrupted when Scary Lady spoke up, announcing they had a winner. They looked up and Emma was surprised to see her hand and gaze pointed at _them_.

" _What_?," she scoffed.

"This table isn't a winner," Killian said, and she had to agree. It was straight on the top, but it had so much paper randomly thrown into it, it was almost impossible for it to hold a big dictionary.

She was wrong.

When Killian picked up the book and chuckled in amusement with a short ' _prepare to laugh_ ' tossed over his shoulder, throwing it on the table, it _didn't_ break. It didn't _move_. It was perfectly stable.

"Oh, come _on_."

He picked it up, placing it on the floor and stepping on it twice, firmly. It didn't break. _Oh my God_.

Scary Lady smiled. "Strong table, strong couple."

"We're not a couple," the both of them said, and this was the first time Emma was truly bothered by the mistake.

She could see Walsh grinning a few tables over, looking like he was having fun watching their failed attempts to break the paper table.

She wanted to crawl under her bedsheets at home and stay there until she was too hungry not to leave her room.

Emma could feel it was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is becoming a long story and I'm actually quite proud I'm managing to almost reach 20 chapters. It'll even pass that, I'm sure. Omg im emotional


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My birthday was on Thursday and my mother threw a family lunch this afternoon and idk why but I suddenly felt inspired. So I tried writing and get this. ITS THE SAME MONTH.

The next activity was simpler: they had two rows of chairs facing each other. Women sat on one, men on the other. The basic concept was making a sixty second conversation with as many people as you could. The men were the ones who switched seats at every minute mark.

She started in front of a guy called Will; he'd come because of his 'mate' John - many British men in Emma's life right now, she was almost getting used to the accents.

Will was decent enough, though the way he spoke made her lose focus of the conversation more than once.

When he changed, the hour of knowing new men, liking some alright and absolutely hating others - her need to punch that Tom dude who sneezed literally eleven times in the space of a minute was so strong she was scared - fully started, and she was surprisingly relieved when Whale came to sit in front of her.

"Don't even _think_ about it," she warned when she saw him glancing at Ruby a few chairs to her left.

"What?," he asked, eyes still on her friend.

"Don't try to charm her back into your life. You know she'll end up hurt."

When he finally looked at her, Emma's heart hurt at the loss she found in his gaze. He didn't say anything, their sixty seconds passing in a silent blink and, in no time, Victor was moving over to the girl next to her.

A few men later, Walsh came to sit in front of her. "Congratulations on building the best table, Ems." Emma couldn't stop the small flinch and the grimace that rose to her face. "What's wrong?"

She _had_ to tell him. He would understand, right? "Nothing, it's just... Killian, he's been hell to put up with lately," she finally spoke, and couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that he shrugged and let it go. Shouldn't he have at least tried to read into it?

"So, how's work been?," he asked nonchalantly, but Emma couldn't. She _had_ to tell him.

"Um, Walsh, I have to tell you something--"

Whatever her brain would have made her say was interrupted by the bell that sounded every minute. Before she could do anything to stop it, he was moving away and starting a conversation with the next woman. The man now opposite to her began talking the moment he sat down.

"You like field hockey?"

A very random question, apparently. She stuttered at first, the man's forwardness and promptness messing her already confused thoughts. She had enough in her mind, she didn't need someone like _that_ in her day. Alas, she couldn't be an asshole to everybody. "I've, um, never actually played it," she admitted, a finger rising to rub a spot near her eye.

He kept making these weird, out of nowhere questions, each one being a different subject. And all she could possibly think about as he talked and she emptily spoke back was about Walsh. Should she tell him or not? She knew she _should_. But _could_ she?

"You know-- I'm sorry," she interrupted him - he was asking something about fear of heights -, taking one last deep breath and getting up. "I just-- excuse me, I have to do something."

She was thankful she'd never seen anyone more indifferent about her leaving.

Walking up to Walsh's chair, she instructed - she _lied_ \- to the girl he was talking to, instructing her to switch places with her. Surprisingly enough, the girl went.

Sitting down, she decided to throw caution to the wind and not think too much about it - honestly, too late.

"Walsh," she started, before he could ask her any questions she knew he would, given the confused look on his face. "Look, I have to tell you something, and I think it's quite important. I just want you to _know_ ," she added, when a glint of recognition came to his eyes, that exact sentence mirroring the one she said that morning as they lay in bed. "That, for me, it didn't - _doesn't_  - change anything."

She enunciated the last bit so she could emphasise how it didn't change anything. Didn't it, though? Had it changed what they were? What she and Killian were?

"What's wrong?," Walsh asked, and she felt her heart rate race in anticipation.

"Um, well, so, okay. Last night, you know we were playing True American," she began, quickly because she knew they had about twenty seconds to settle this before they had to switch places. And she also knew she should have pulled him aside for a talk like this, but it was now or never. "And you know me and Killian had to kiss."

She was trying to make excuses and she knew that, no matter how disgusting she thought she was at that point.

"And you didn't," he confirmed, and she couldn't quite know of he'd only said that to make a point or to urge her on.

"Yeah. Well, not _really_."

He hadn't been exactly smiling, but she definitely saw his face _fall_. "What do you mean?"

"At the end of the night, he..." She didn't want to dump the weight of guilt on Killian's shoulders. " _We_... Kind of did?" She was trying to soften it and sugarcoat it and she absolutely _hated_ sugarcoating, but she would also absolutely hate being dumped by Walsh.

She could see he was angry now, and not the ' _did you eat my sandwich_ ' angry; the ' _I feel betrayed_ ' angry. "You kissed him? In the middle of the night?" She opened her mouth to talk but he again beat her to it. "For no precise reason?" She was sort of glad he wasn't raising his voice, but his whispered hisses and questions coated in coldness and asperity were more frightening than any yells he could produce. It made her fear for their relationship.

"Well..." She _had_ to do it. "Technically, _he_ kissed me, but--"

She didn't finish it: he got up and stormed off before she could. Feeling her heart shrink in her chest, she didn't hesitate to follow him, calling after him so he would at least slow down.

"Walsh, _wait_ ," she said when she reached him, a hand holding him back by the arm. The glare he gave it made her step back. "It didn't _mean_ anything; that's what I've been trying to tell you."

"I don't care, Emma," he confessed surly. "It happened anyway, didn't it?"

" _Walsh_ \--"

"Hey, mate." _Oh, no._ "Emma didn't do anything. _I_ kissed her, she didn't even kiss me back..."

He was lying. Killian was lying to protect her from whatever the hell was coming. But he couldn't continue his excuses, as a fist connected with his jaw less than a second later. Restraining a surprised squeal, Emma held Killian upright as he dangerously swung back with the force of the impact.

"Walsh!"

The man only sighed, as if he hadn't just punched the shit out of someone. "Look, Emma, it may not have meant anything to you, but it does to me."

" _And what about Zelena?_ ," they heard from the large doorway behind them. Looking back, Emma saw August leaning against the frame.

'Who's Zelena?,' she wanted to ask, but when she glanced back at Walsh, she saw the moment the colour left his face. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths; even Killian, with his already growing jaw bruise.

"What's he talking about?," she asked him, not even bothering to soften her voice, a harsh edge in it as she tried to push away every single bad thought from her mind.

He swallowed. "I have no idea."

She scoffed, gradually growing antsy and annoyed. "Are you seriously going to try and lie to me?"

His eyes finally settled on her, and she waited for August's imminent reply.

"Zelena," the scruffed man started behind her, and she didn't blink as she watched Walsh's every move, "is a ginger lady. With whom Walsh's been having meetings every Tuesday and Thursday, all day long."

"People have business meetings," Walsh said rudely, and Emma wanted to believe the frown on his brow and the tense stance of his shoulders meant he was offended, but she was better than that at her own job.

"Yes, because all business meetings happen while you're at her house. _Probably_ naked." She didn't have to turn around to know August had a disgusted expression marring his face. She could feel Killian's arm tense up, his hand most possibly closing into a fist.

"Shut up, that's _ridiculous_ ," Walsh pressed on, but August was having none of it.

"You can tell that to Glinda too. I'm sure she would confirm how pleasant her Saturday mornings are."

"Are you kidding me?," Emma couldn't help but ask, her own hand tightening its hold on Killian's arm. She didn't even know why it was still there, but she felt as if that was her anchor to not _pounce_ on Walsh and tear his face with her own nails. She was feeling so much at the same time: she wanted to hurt Walsh for having a _Zelena_ and a _Glinda_ , cry because she was losing the one perfect thing in her life, help Ruby finally finding a new, more permanent boyfriend, hug Killian for defending her, holding her in place as she tried to keep her composure, to thank August for doing what he was doing... The list went on, and on, and on and she preferred when it stuck to laugh because of the guys' antics and cry at the TV. "You're going on and on about how it mattered to you that Killian and I kissed when you've been spending days and nights with not only one, but two other women, for God knows how long?" She was raising her voice now, but she honestly didn't give a shit. Saying she was utterly undignified could be the understatement of the year. "How long has it been going on?," she added, he thought popping into her head.

Walsh didn't reply, he just clenched his jaw. She felt Killian start stepping forwards and held him back.

"August?," she called, finally turning around and silently asking for an answer.

He licked his lips. "I don't know exactly; when I discovered it was already happening."

Emma waited a beat, then spoke again. "And when did you find out?"

He hesitated a few moments before sighing. "A month ago."

She could almost hear the internal _boom_ she felt in her chest. She didn't want to cry anymore. She didn't want to hug anyone, to thank anyone, to hurt anyone. She's was just exhausted; she just wanted to go home.

But she had to at least finish this.

"A month, Walsh? In our two month relationship?" She was going to deal with August telling her that only after a month later. "Is that really all I'm worth to you?"

"Don't blame me like I'm the only one here who's done it," he defended, and even now she didn't want to punch him so hard his eyes fell out - if that was even possible.

"Oh, please," she heard Killian finally speak up. "You cannot _possibly_ compare a month or more of shameless cheating with one night of something that didn't mean anything."

Walsh didn't seem to have a reasonable response for that.

Emma swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. "Um, August, tell Ruby and Victor we're heading home already," she asked her friend, who nodded sympathetically. "We, uh, have to take care of that bruise," she pointed at Killian's jaw.

He assented at that, eyes sad with so much thought begins them.

She spared Walsh one last glance, pouring all the loathe she felt, all the despair, all the disgust and sadness, in one single look.

Marching down the hallway, she was sure to walk as far away from him as possible, Killian in tow.

When he hailed a cab for them, Emma felt her panic levels rising. She had been cheated on; _again_. She had been abandoned; _again_. She had let herself enjoy life and life disappointed her; _again_.

But, as they entered the cab and Killian informed the driver their destination, she realised that perhaps she wasn't abandoned. As she leaned back and allowed her head to rest on his shoulder, she realised that she wasn't alone. It was only when the tears started blurring her vision that she realised; she had her friends, her family, right there, to support her. She _wasn't_ alone.

When his hands lightly grabbed hers and his fingers started drawing random patterns on her skin, she realised she had an anchor to her old life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAT PLOT TWIST THO
> 
> Honestly, all through the writing of this fic I've been thinking of how to make Walsh the bad guy and boOM. THIS HAPPENS. its three am someone hold me im emotional because each chapter that passes is a chapter closer to the end and im not sure im readyyyyy


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I HAVE PLANNED THE STORY OUT AND IT WILL HAVE 23 CHAPTERS AND AN EPILOGUE. 
> 
> I'm trying to take an advance in the chapters. Like, finishing writing a chapter and already starting the next one. Since it happened last night at 4am, I thought it was best to wait. Headstart, whoop.

"Do you think I overreacted?," Emma asked Ruby as they walked through the zoo. August and Victor had cheerfully announced that morning they ought to go to the zoo.

("Why?," Killian had asked, speaking her own thoughts.

"Because the zoo is amazing?," August had suggested.

"Because they feel the need to help me forget Walsh?," Emma'd chirped in, more confident than she thought she would feel to say that. She had anticipated they would call her selfish at the suggestion, but them coming up with an idea of a ' _fun day out_ ' two days after her breakup with Chocolate Eyed Cheater Extraordinaire number two couldn't possibly be a coincidence.

Thankfully, they had looked surprised and slightly guilty at the same time.)

"Overreacted?," Ruby repeated, a skeptical eyebrow raised, and Emma expected the worst. "Honey, if I were in your shoes, I would have kicked that bastard in the nuts and walked off _proudly_."

She couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Sounds like something you'd do."

"I want to do it."

They proceeded to start a conversation about painful yet delightful - for them - things they would like to do in their lifetime ("I'm still jealous you're able to punch people." "Ruby, you've slapped _three_ people within the last _six_ months." "Yeah, but I've never _punched_ one of them.") as they sat on a bench.

A few minutes before, Emma had been worried where the guys had run off to, but she was now rather thankful for some friendship hour with Ruby; girl time was needed for once in her life.

"I have to have kids soon," Ruby was saying, her shoulders sagging in disappointment. "Or else I'm not going to be able to."

"Ruby, relax--"

" _No_ , Emma, there is literally no way to relax," she snapped, and Emma would be slightly offended if she didn't do it to other people herself - and know what Ruby was going through. "I want to have kids some day. I've always wanted to build a family. And now, all that process I had planned to happen in over five years has to happen in less than two."

Emma thought of stopping Ruby mid sentence when she saw Victor approach silently, but she didn't do it. She didn't do it because the look in his face when he heard her confession didn't allow her to.

" _Ruby_ \--," she weakly attempted to grab her attention, but her friend interrupted her, oblivious of the man standing close by.

"I may not have a family like I want because my freaking body is a bitch to everyone _including_ me." Emma could see she now wanted to go home, because even she wanted to.

When Ruby closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, she discreetly shook her head at Whale. Now wouldn't be a good time to let anyone else talk about it. Emma knew she had just released _months_ of repressing and inner sadness in less than a minute, so she would rather give her a moment to get herself back together than flood her with questions and decisions.

So she did her best to be the supporting friend Ruby always was to her. Putting a hand on her knee, Emma raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to go home?"

She felt her heart breaking for her best friend when the latter nodded, a pout on her bright red lips and a heavy sigh.

They got up and started towards the zoo exit, Ruby leading the way. Emma made a mental note: talk to Victor before all shit goes down.

 

* * *

 

Should she talk to Killian about everything she was feeling? She hadn't tried yet. Would that make anything better? Would it make things _worse_?

Shaking her head lightly, she regained focus on the task in hand. Forcing her fingers to keep typing, she continued to compose the email to her boss.

Victor had come to sit near her a few minutes ago, and she made sure to pay him no mind. He had just turned on the television when Killian strode into the room, plopping down next to Emma on the couch. When she looked up, she made the mistake of letting her lips form a light smile; she looked away when he replied with one of his own. Attempting to ignore the warmth his body radiated, she kept hitting the keys on her laptop, stopping every once in a while to check and delete.

She was, however, interrupted. "What the hell?," Whale asked in a low tone. The two of them looked up, Killian's expression as puzzled as Emma's.

"What?," he asked, his fingers blocking his phone.

" _What_. _The hell_?," the blonde man enunciated, his eyes a perfect translation of ' _cut the crap_ '.

"I'm writing an email," she answered, even though he clearly hadn't asked that.

"You think that I'm blind? Think I can't smell it? You think I can't hear it?" Emma frowned; where was this even going? "The stench of filth and lust is _all over_ this room." He paused, for a moment. " _What_ happened here?," he asked, and Emma couldn't help but feel like a child being caught in the middle of a naughty act.

"Nothing," she replied, at the same time Killian said " _Hardly_ anything."

She glared at him, and he seemed to shrink in his seat, head ducked and shoulders raised to his ears.

"Hardly?," Victor demanded. "Explain."

"It was _nothing_ ," Emma insisted, and looked at Killian, giving him a silent permission to declare what they'd done. Because she was sure Victor Whale didn't give up that easily, and would kill someone to find out something he knew was being kept from him.

Killian licked his lips, shrugging. "We, _uh_ , we kissed?"

A moment of silence that seemed to stretch for hours followed, and Emma fought the will to fidget uncomfortably on the couch, clenching her jaw as she waited for a reaction.

"You did what?," he asked softly.

"But nothing's changed, everything--"

"That's _bullcrap_!," he exclaimed, getting up and pacing to the window, only to turn around and walk back towards them. "Don't you realise what'll happen now? Everything is going to slowly fall apart."

" _Whale_ \--"

"No, don't ' _Whale_ ' me, mister, I can tell there is tension here." He was nearing hysteria, and Emma could see a vein growing prominent on his forehead. "That tension will build to tenser tension, then people will stop talking to each other, we are going to neglect each other's existences and then _boom_ ; we all have separate apartments very far away from each other."

What was he even _talking_ about?

"Or, of course," he continued, now pacing back and forth, his hands on his waist, "you could start dating, then you'd move on, and I'd be stuck here with _August_ and that _damn_ book of his. You're the _glue_ , Killian, you're the one thing that links us together. We might have lived together for seven years, but I don't really know who that man is, and I'm afraid I'm not eager to do so. That means that after you two move on and out, I'd be alone with him, which would lead to one of us also moving out and _second boom_ ; we all still have separate apartments very far away from each other." He was speaking so fast, she was amazed at how much breath that man had.

"You're panicking," Emma called out.

"No, I'm not." He looked so serious, she was genuinely scared. Killian's tense shoulders said the same. Victor pressed his fingertips onto his now closed eyelids, rubbing his eyes in a tired way. He let his hand fall on his thigh with a smack, a deep wrinkle on his forehead. "This is all your fault, Killian. We had an agreement." Was it a physical agreement? Emma was curious, curious enough that she closed her laptop to pay attention to what was coming next. "From the day Emma Swan signed that lease, you, me and Robin took a No-Nail Oath."

She couldn't believe she was really hearing that. "A ' _No-Nail Oath_ '?"

Killian paid her no mind. "I didn't break the No-Nail Oath." It sounded more absurd each time they said it, and Emma sat upright in her indignation.

" _Your mouth nailed her mouth_!," Victor said loudly, pointing at Emma. It was like she wasn't even there anymore.

"No one nailed my mouth." She placed the laptop on the coffee table. "And, for the record, we didn't do anything wrong."

Whale scoffed. "Please, do you know nothing about men?"

"Yeah, I know _nothing_ about men; it's why I'm hired to lure them into believing I'm interested in anything they do or say," she snapped, each second that passed adding fuel to the fire inside of her.

"A woman cannot be in close quarters with three men and kiss one of them," the blonde man clarified his point. "Because, what fuels men? Competition and sex." He was so confident saying that, it was as if he didn't notice those were _not_ good things to compete about. "That's why the United Nations was formed, that's why girls aren't allowed on pirate ships, and that is why there is a No-Nail Oath in apartment 4D, and deep down, Killian knows I'm right."

"In my defence, I can say girls were actually allowed in pirate ships, but only when anchored at port, and with an official invitation from one of the crew members." When Victor and Emma both glared at him, the small smile on his lips fell in less than a second. "Not that it comes to case."

"Here it is, the No-Nail Oath," Victor suddenly declared, and Emma turned back to him, only to see his had his phone now in hand. " _'We, the undersigned, agree never to nail our roommate, Emma Swan,'_..." Emma could not believe it. It actually existed. " _'...Unless the sex can be parlayed into a business that provides for all parties involved.'_ "

 _Okay, that is it._ "What?!" She uncrossed her legs, switching her look between the two man, expecting a reasonable explanation.

Victor, however, carried on. " _'If one of the undersigned nails said female, well, then all must nail her.'_ " He finished with a flourish of his had as he blocked his phone.

"WHAT?! How could you sign something like that?," she asked the both of them, however focusing more on Killian. Whale was filthy, he could find dirt in the cleanest places; but this was beyond Killian's boundaries. "I'm not going to let Whale _nail_ my mouth--" She had to stop saying that.

He scoffed again. "You think I want this? Believe me, I'll pass." If she didn't feel so disgusted, she would have been offended. "I'm as unwilling as you are, Emma. However, an oath's an oath, so..."

He walked down to her, purposefully leaning in, but she just couldn't. She dodged him before he got to her. "What are you doing?!"

"I have to kiss you." He did truly sound annoyed.

"No, you _don't_ , Whale. What the hell is wrong with you, people?" Her concept and ideas of her friends were slowly crumbling, opening her eyes to a new level of them.

"But the _oath_ \--"

"Screw the oath, this is ridiculous!" She was particularly angry at how quiet Killian was. He could at least back her up, couldn't he? Shaking her head, she huffed. "I can't believe this," she muttered, getting up swiftly and walking towards the door, ignoring the weak calls from Killian. She needed air. It was slowly becoming too much.

She was only aware of where she was when she reached her destination: the roof. Walking towards the railing and breathed in deeply. How could she have possibly thought that living with three guys would bring her less drama than living with a girl?

Was she regretting her decision to have signed that lease a year ago? _Should_ she?

The sound of the metal door opening and quick steps slowing down to a stop next to her startled her, but she didn't look away from the setting sun. She didn't have to; she knew Killian would come after her sooner or later.

He didn't say anything - _flashing news -_ for a while, as if wanting her to take the first step into the conversation.

She had so many questions, so many doubts.

One in specific. "Do you regret kissing me?," she asked softly.

When he took more than seventeen seconds to reply, she felt her heart race in anticipation.

"I don't," he finally spoke, staring into the orange tinged clouds near the horizon like her. "I don't regret kissing you. I regret what it did, I regret that it made things weird." He then sighed. "We are flat mates, you know. We have to figure this out, Emma."

She huffed a humourless laugh through her nose. "A _No-Nail_ Oath? You thought I was going to sleep with one of you, like I just couldn't help it?"

"I was bloody certain you wouldn't want anything with anyone the moment we finished that interview, love." Emma turned her head to him, and she knew her heart should have slowed down when she saw the light tugging at the corner of his lips, but it didn't. "Nothing guaranteed, however, that we wouldn't. I know I did." He then looked up, at her, his oh so blue eyes glowing with the fading sunlight. "I still do."

She didn't know what to say. They were few the times anything left Emma Swan speechless. She couldn't take her eyes of his, her mouth hanging slightly open with his blatant declaration, and it was like she had to focus to breathe properly. They were also few the times Killian Jones's eyes transmitted so much emotion in one intense look.

And, suddenly, her phone rang. Saved by the bell. Maybe not. Maybe she wanted to throw the bell off a cliff and hope it would never ring again in such inopportune hours.

Reluctantly adverting her gaze to the screen, she saw Ruby's name. Throwing him an apologising glance, she clenched her jaw slightly when his look didn't change.

"Hello?," she picked it up.

_"Hey, girl. Can you come over? I need some help baking."_

_Ugh, great._ She could use her friend's advising, though. "Okay. I'll be there in twenty."

Hanging up, she licked her lips before looking back up at him. Big mistake, since his eyes travelled down to them and she felt this burning urge to just throw caution to the wind and kiss him.

Stepping back before she did something stupid, she sighed. "I have to go, Killian."

"Will we ever talk about this?," he asked when she turned around.

She hesitated before replying over her shoulder. "Be patient."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo I'm excited yet sad


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been exactly nine months since this story has been created and that makes me emotional. 
> 
> On that note, here's a big one.

Ruby had talked her into spilling it out. Not to Killian, _god_ no. But she could finally admit she _kind of_ had a crush on him. 

("A _crush_?," Ruby had raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Emma, you're lusting over this man in ways I've only _heard_ happened.")

She also convinced Emma to show him so. Not too bluntly, though. What if he didn't feel the same, right?

("Emma, the man just declared himself to you," her friend snapped her fingers in front of her face. "He poured his heart out to you. Stop making up excuses and go, _subtly_ , show this man you were meant to be together.")

It started out as forgiveness. She forgave him for being an asshole over a year ago when she signed the lease. Then it moved on to openness to touch. Emma had never been particularly a touchy-feely person, but she started giving out to Ruby's incessant hints from some gossip website.

("Okay, it says that you're supposed to touch him casually," she had informed her. "So there's a picture of a girl laughing with her head thrown back and a hand - _ah_ \- on the dude's arm. But I know you wouldn't do this, so start with easy touches here and there and you'll get the hang of it in an instant." Saying it _wasn't_ helping wouldn't have done anything to it all, so Emma kept quiet.)

She touched his shoulder, his arm - she wanted to show him she liked him but she didn't quite want him to figure out too fast. She didn't know _what_ she wanted.

("Next step is literally being nicer to him." She paused. "We can skip that, if you want.")

Emma did try to be nicer, just not too much. She still didn't share her onion rings and still watched Say Yes To The Dress just to piss him off, but she had stopped snapping at him for finishing all the milk or for actually _liking_ it when she turned on Say Yes To The Dress.

("Show interest in his interests."

"We already like pretty much the same things."

"Great! See, _meant to be_.")

In the end, Emma had never though she could emotionally wear herself out without having much _to_ wear. It was just a crush, no matter how much Ruby emphasised it was _not_.

She was lying down on her bed, texting Ruby about details and plans ( _ **yesterday I saw him doing laundry.** so? **do you know how many times he's done that? I count zero.**_ ) when there was a knock on the open door. She looked up: it was Killian.

"Afternoon, love," he greeted, and she didn't reply because she was too focused on how he was wearing a new blue shirt - and because he looked amazing in it. "Listen, can you give me a ride to the hardware store?"

She sat up. "Why do you need to go to the hardware store?"

He smiled wickedly - _oh no_ \- and strode into the bedroom, settling on the bed next to her. "You see, I gave my new manager an idea, and it was well received. It's basically the reverse of a Girl's Night: it's _Guy's_ Night. With free libations and chicken wings and, I don't know, maybe some ribs; just _manly_ dish. So I was thinking of putting up a punching bag and some other decorations at the bar just so it fits the occasion more properly."

She didn't know if she could handle two hours alone with him with no way of going away. She shook her head. "No. Not happening."

He kept insisting for a few short moments, but he suddenly stopped. "Wait, don't move, love." He suddenly leaned in - _extremely_ , his face was so close to hers she could feel his breathing -, a hand rising to... Cup her cheek? No, it went higher. He pinched just above her cheekbone. He lifted his hand then, grinning proudly as he showed it to her. "Eyelash."

His scent was intoxicating; it was as if she'd never smelt him before - why the hell was that happening? "Why do you smell so good?," she found herself asking, and was immensely relieved when he didn't seem surprised.

"It's because I did the laundry, I smell like a freshly bathed baby." And then he did something wrong. Something _very_ wrong. He held the hem of his t-shirt and pulled slightly - she had to force herself not to look at the glimpse of skin she detected, or the trail of hair that led down to--

_Okay._

"And my shirt, it used to be white." It was a soft blue now, and she noticed it brought out his eyes even more. She wanted to see how he looked in a white t-shirt though - even if she _had_  seen it before. _Who cares?_ "I'm puzzled, I think it's because I put it with the colours."

When he didn't pull it back down, instead inspecting a spot on the patch he'd taken, she swung her legs off the bed. " _Fine!_ I'll take you to the damn hardware store."

She was glad he chose to ignore her fiery temper.

 

-

Emma never thought going to the hardware store could be such a _torture_ , if she were honest. Seeing Killian carrying pipes and the actual punching back and chains - god, the chains were a _nightmare_. Specially when she spotted an old lady ogling at him from the corner of the aisle -; it was like he was _trying_ to be obscene.

"I feel like Russell Crowe in every movie he's ever done," he joked after he finished yanking the chains from the plastic box the others were, wiping his hands on his dark washed jeans and scratching his beard.

She couldn't even laugh, she just needed to get out of there as soon as possible. "Um, _okay_ , Killian, we have to go."

"But, Swan, there are so many things we still need to buy," he said, walking over with a small piece of lightly crumbled paper in his hands. There were about five items left, and he rolled her eyes when he sent her off to look for the _long-shafted drive drill_ while he sought a new _nut wrench._

Thankful there were fans and AC's on the next aisle to cool her heating cheeks and neck, she mentally told herself she was being ridiculous and set off on a quest to find the damned drive drill.

Only it didn't last long.

By the end of an hour, they had the cart loaded with everything they needed and Emma was internally screaming. Killian was high up in a wall staircase, and was asking her about what she thought of a _pipe_ ("Do you think the size is alright?") when said pipe slipped from his hands and hit the end of a very long wooden board; piece of wood whose other end hit Emma straight on the chin; and the last thing she saw was Killian's eyes, when everything darkened and she was drowned in black.

 

-

When Emma woke up, she felt funny.

Funny like Ellen DeGeneres.

Funny like Parks and Rec.

Funny like dogs trying to catch food and failing.

Funny like the Pope.

 _Wait_. The Pope wasn't funny.

She opened her eyes and all she saw for a moment was the warm, amber light of her bedside lamp. Blinking to clear her vision, she turned her head to the nightstand and saw a cup of water, the clock, and a tiny bottle filled with pink tablets. She chuckled. Why would the tablets be _pink_? _Out of all colours..._

Focusing on the clock, she only saw numbers. They didn't really make sense to her. Because, like, they already had _words_. Why should _numbers_ exist if words already did? If numbers were so important, then why did words exist? What time was it?

Her philosophy hour was rudely interrupted by-- _oh!_ None other than Killian freaking Jones, the handsome extraordinaire. He was holding something - was it a tray? She didn't know, she was too focused on his smile.

"Hey, Swan." His voice sounded slightly different, as if somehow distant. "Glad to see you're awake, lass. You gave us quite the fright earlier." He left what he was holding on the nightstand, moving its current contents to over the thingy - tray, right?

"Killian," she called, and her voice was dragging, like she was drunk. But she wasn't drunk. Was she? _Nah_. "Nice to see you're alive."

"Why wouldn't I be alive, love?" He sat next to where she was lying, looking down at her with soft eyes.

"I don't know, 'cause you're drop dead _gorgeous_ , aha," she laughed at the pun, because it was funny.

She didn't see if he'd laughed or not, but when she came back to her senses, the corners of his eyes were crinkled. "You're not so bad yourself, Swan. That's quite a bruise you got there, though."

She didn't know what he was talking about, so she just let that pass. He'd just called her pretty. "You think I'm pretty?" She hoped she wasn't too obvious on her adoration for him.

"Of course I do," he replied, and she felt her heart soar. "Anyone to state otherwise is a blatant fool."

She smiled up at him, and sighed. "I like you," she admitted.

He tilted his head. "I like you too, Swan."

She frowned because he didn't mean it. Not the way she wanted him to. "No, I mean, I really, _really_ like you. Like, _'I want you now'_ like you." She looked up at the tray he brought and saw a bowl of soup on it. " _Ooh_ , soup. Is there a spoon? I had a dream about spoons."

"Wait, Emma," he stopped her hand from rising too far for the tray. She just wanted one spoon, was it too much to ask? She then realised he was holding her hand, tightly. Did _that_ mean he liked her too? "Did you mean that?"

"Yeah, it happened in a meadow--"

"No," he cut her off, and she slowly blinked as she turned to him. "About you liking me?"

"Well, I mean, _yeah_. I thought it was pretty obvious, though." She let her hand fall on the mattress, her strengths running out. "Can I have the soup now? It looks hot, and I'm kind of cold. What happened to your hands, they're always so warm. Why are they cold, _jeez_..." She let her other hand wring free from his icy grasp - _what the heck_ \- and turned her back to him, stretching her arms quickly over and around her head. She felt her knuckles brush something - maybe his scruff? It felt pretty scruffy. She loved the scruff -, but suddenly she heard an _oomph_ , followed by a high clang of something hard hitting on plastic, quickly followed by a loud curse and hisses.

Lazily turning around, Emma saw Killian clutching to his eye and his left hand, which was wet. _What happened?_

She didn't know, because she felt sleep clouding her thoughts and vision and everything else. She slipped into darkness once more.

 

-

Emma got out of bed and felt a _huge_ hangover. Which was odd, because she didn't remember drinking the previous night. Actually, she didn't remember anything at all after she'd gotten knocked out.

Groaning slightly, she massaged the spot under her chin, where she knew there should have a huge bruise. It only hurt slightly to the touch, so those painkillers the doctor had prescribed really worked, which was good. Had she slept all day yesterday after she blacked out?

Massaging her temple slightly, she left her room, only to be greeted by all three of her roommates up and apparently deep in conversation - which was interrupted as soon as she stepped into the kitchen.

"Emma! Finally; it's been a while," August greeted her, a smile upon his face.

She was, however, focused on the shiner on Killian's eye she only noticed when she got close enough. "What happened to your eye?," she asked, furrowing her brows.

He mirrored her expression, although with a small smile gracing his lips. "You accidentally smashed my face, yesterday, love. Don't you remember?"

"I actually don't remember anything after the hardware store; it's like it never happened. These painkillers left me all goofy."

"Sure they did," Whale muttered, and Emma didn't know what he meant, so she just ignored him.

"And what about your hand?"

"Ah," he examined his bandaged left hand. "That one's on me. I, _accidentally_ , supported myself after the punch you gave me on a scalding hot bowl of soup."

She hissed in sympathy, and headed to the fridge to make some hot cocoa. As she made it, she could hear fast whispers leaving the circle they had made near the table, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were talking about her. Had she done something else the day before?

When she finished, she turned to them. When they paid her no mind, she raised her eyebrows. "Well, see you at Guy's Night tonight." She started walking away, but when they - frantically? - called her back, she stopped.

"You really shouldn't go, Emma," August suggested, shaking his head.

"You should rest," Killian added.

"That bruise looks ugly; that can only mean you're not healed yet."

"Plus, I'm sure you'd be too tired to go anyway," Victor concluded, his brows knitted together.

She smiled softly at them. Maybe they were right.

 

-

Emma had napped the entire afternoon, and was starving when she woke up. Walking around the loft, she realised there was no one there except for her. She was confused and slightly desperate until she remembered. Guy's Night. She should go.

She vaguely remembered waking up that morning and taking a hot cocoa. Maybe they were there with her? Perhaps they told her to come. She should get ready.

Putting on some jeans, a black shirt and her reddish brown leather jacket, she went out the door, with only one thought in mind: she was starting to get annoyed at how those tablets made her forget everything.

 

-

Arriving at the bar, she was surprised at how full it was. She was proud of Killian, and spotted him at the bar, laughing as he served the patrons long neck beers and bowls of nachos and fried chicken. He _did_ say there would be chicken.

After one of the bartenders told him something and he went to the back, Emma located a vacant seat by the bar and sat down. Killian came back a second later, hands full with a new bowl of nachos, and she smiled at him, only to be welcomed with a confused expression.

"What do I have to do to get a bowl of free nachos, here?," she asked aloud, jokingly. She didn't expect the group of men next to her to exclaim 'here', pointing at themselves. They were just so drunk already and she chuckled lightly, knowing they were too enraptured in drinks and chicken to even move from their seats.

"Love, what are you doing here?"

She turned back to Killian with a shrug. "How could I miss this, it's your big night. I'm proud of you, Killian."

He looked touched, but it didn't waver his insisting. "You said you weren't coming, this morning, Swan."

"I actually don't really remember this morning. Those painkillers are starting to piss me off," she added, looking around.

He glanced away when one of the patrons called him, giving the man a beer bottle and smiling while he exclaimed "Free beer, all night!"

"Wait," she spoke when he came back. "Guys' Night is free beers for men?"

"Aye," he nodded, "it's _Guys'_ Night."

"That's not very clever," she admitted, toying with the cup holder on the surface of the bar. "That way no women would show up."

He tilted his head to her, and was about to say something when a woman came from the back of the bar and approached them. "Here's our little idea man," she greeted briefly, and, if Killian's jump was to say anything, she had just slapped his butt as she passed by.

She sent him a questioning look, and he shrugged.

"Did she just slap your butt?," she asked, just to be sure.

"Aye. She's the new manager," he started. "A manager and a, _uh_ , coach."

Emma hummed, not sure of how she felt about it all. The woman was young, younger than them, even, and she was Killian's boss.

She caught her attention once more when she passed by them again, a hand grazing down Killian's back, making the latter shiver. When she hooked two fingers around one of his belt loops and pulled, he turned around and eased her hands from his pants - literally. "We- Wendy, _hang on_ , please."

Then, all of it clicked together inside Emma's head. "Wait... Is she...?"

"No," Killian denied with a slight shake of his head.

"Uh, yes," Wendy, the accented manager said. Each second that passed was another second ticking down for Emma's internal bomb explode.

"Are you...?"

"No."

" _Yes_ . Yeah, we are sleeping together. So what?" She seemed rude; Emma disliked her already.

She looked at Killian - he was gazing right at her, those big blue eyes transmitting sadness and regret. "I'm sorry, Swan."

She sighed, using every acting skill she acquired with years of experience as a bail bondsperson. "Why are you sorry? You're a free man." She started getting up, putting her jacket back on. "You're just, you know, getting some stank on it."

Wendy looked surprised and offended, and Emma was glad to say she didn't give a shit. "Did you really just say that to me in my _own bar_?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Killian, _who_ is this?"

"Yeah, Killian, who am I?," she demanded, looking at him with a look she hoped said exactly what she thought: _don't disappoint me_.

"Wendy, this is Emma," he introduced weakly. "She's my, uh... Flat... _Friend_?"

"I'm your _flat friend_?," she repeated, taking that as a cue for her to leave. "Good night, Killian."

As she strode out the bar, she wished she could cover her ears like a child to shield away all the bad music, manly screams and Killian's calls for her.

 

-

The short walk home was a nightmare.

Her chin was starting to hurt again and she had a heavy consciousness.

It's not like she wanted him to declare his love for her right there, she'd just wanted something better than 'flat friend'.

When she got home, the first thing she did was sit at the kitchen on a stool with a bowl of rocky road and her phone on silent.

Not ten minutes later, she heard the door open and shut. She watched as Killian walked in and stopped opposite to her, the counter separating them.

"I reckon I've got some explaining to do--", he started, but the sound of his voice was for once irritating her.

"Shut up."

He ducked his head, looking down at his feet. His hands were in his pockets, out of her sight, but she knew they would be twitching with nerves.

"I'm really happy her name is _Wendy_ ," she started, speaking of a thought that had popped into her mind a few times. "Who's next? Lily? If you ever date someone called _Nana_ I _will_ hire a PI. You do realise you're basically Captain Hook himself?"

"Emma," he interrupted, and she let her mouth fall closed at his tone. "Last night, when you were under the effect of your medication..." He licked his lips. "You said you want me."

She scoffed, hopefully hiding her despair. "Shut up."

"You said you find me drop dead gorgeous and that you _want_ me," he clarified, and she couldn't believe she had actually said that.

She couldn't give in. Not _now_ , at least, of all moments. "Just shut up, Killian."

"If it was something you were just saying, then that is alright," he said, and she clenched her jaw, getting up and walking around the counter to stand directly in front of him. "That's okay, we'll move on and not talk about it; but it _is_ something that has not left my mind since then. You were, however, never clear about that, so there were other options."

He scratched behind his ear, suddenly shy. He had to stop doing endearing things while she was mad at him.

He continued, with a wrinkle on his brow. "This ship has sailed from and anchored at many ports, but it didn't _know_ \--"

"What are you _talking_ about?," she cut him off when his speech started sounding senseless.

He huffed a quick, exasperated breath. "Do you want to have sex with me, yes or no?"

"Yes!" _NO_. "No." His shocked look made her spit it out. Kind of. "Yeah. I mean, I _did_." She sighed, taking a small step away from him. "But that was before I knew everything you were doing was for your boss."

"What do you mean? What did I do?"

She hesitated, eyes focused on his, look unwavering. "You... Were trying so hard to succeed. It was nice seeing you actually trying at something. Because you don't normally do that."

It was like they were both holding their breaths, the space around them quiet and filled with tension.

"Wh-- is _that_ why you felt more attracted to me?," he asked, as if she had just said she was attracted to third eyes and he had one right there on his forehead.

"I thought it was attractive that you were trying," she sighed again.

" _That's_ why?" He seemed scandalised. "You're a bloody exploiter, Swan."

Those were the rare times she had not idea if he was joking or not. " _What_?! No, I'm not."

"You are an exploiter, right there!"

"If I really were an exploiter, why would I be interested in you?" Her question was true; it wasn't like Killian did much to guarantee a successful future for his career. "I'd be the worst exploiter in the world."

"You're an exploiter. Little gold-digger, right there," he pointed at her, a small smile slowly forming on his lips.

"I'm _not_ , Killian. Shut up."

"I'm disappointed in you, lass."

"Stop it." She huffed, getting her hair out of her face with her fingers. "I'm not an exploiter."

He waited a moment, gazing at her with what she could only describe as tenderness. "Then prove it," he proposed softly, head tilting an inch to the side.

She swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. He had stepped forward, and she could smell his scent, could see every singe hair of his stubble, every speck of silver in his blue, blue eyes. When he released a breath she didn't know he was holding, she felt the air on her lips, and that was when she snapped.

All the control she had over her emotions, her feelings, her touch; was gone. She wasn't in control anymore. Pouncing forward, she let her arms loop around his neck as she pulled him as close as possible, their lips fusing together in a way she had almost missed - who was she kidding; she'd _missed_ it alright.

When his hands found their way to her back, it was like the first kiss had never happened. It was like she was experiencing everything for the very first time: there were new touches, new smells, new tastes, new feelings. He turned his head to deepen the kiss and she felt him nudge her against the table. When she hopped up, she felt something cold press against her back, and all of a sudden...

 _Crash_.

They broke apart and looked down. It was... A _fish bowl_ ? Whose was it? Where was the fish?

"There," Killian pointed, as if reading her thoughts. They both ducked at the same time to grab the squirming clownfish.

After five minutes of struggling - and an impressively immortal fish - they grabbed a clear plastic bag and filled it with water, putting the fish and a leaf of a seaweed from the broken fish bowl in it.

When they finally paused to breathe, it all fell to Emma. It was going too fast. She was probably ruining a _big_ chance now; but she knew Killian. Would he give up on her? Would he give her time?

Maybe he was right. What if she only felt attracted to him because of the brief explosion of energy, responsibility and initiative he had. What if that was all true? Could she risk it?

Stepping back, she spared him one last glance before, again, for the second time that night, walking away from him.

She went into her room and took off her wet boots, throwing them in a corner and grabbing a pillow, screaming for as long and as loud as she possibly could into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Groggy Emma is one of the best Emmas I've ever written, period.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO ANGRY AT MYSELF RIGHT NOW. I FINALLY - finally - find inspiration to write, consult my elaborate plan of the whole story, go through my phone's notes and find out I've had this chapter written for over a mONTH WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME I FEEL SO HORRIBLE. 
> 
> I'm currently in England and studying like crazy and have an entirely different schedule and only find inspiration and motivation to write precisely when I can't. But hey. Here I am now, past the settled bedtime around here. Just kill me.

Emma didn't say it out loud when Ruby told her she would have to go to Canada for a special shooting, but, in her own selfish mind, it was like the opportunity had come at _terrible_ hour.

Emma spent as much time away from the loft as possible. Which showed to be extremely difficult, since her usual hideout was either Ruby's apartment or the bar; however _someone_  happened to work there - the precise someone she had been trying to avoid for almost a week.

She spent more time with Mary Margaret and David, who she discovered was extremely excited for the human that was now growing inside his wife's belly.

("Do you know the sex yet?," she had asked once, sipping on the hot cocoa Mary Margaret had always mastered in making.

"Not exactly," her friend'd told her. "David believes it a boy."

"It _is_ a boy," had affirmed the man in question from the kitchen.

"You never know!," the brunette'd spoken back, a fond smile on her face.

"Do you have any names?"

"Definitely not. We'll probably just figure one out after the baby is born.")

The only person she was sure she could talk about everything that was happening was August. The writer, however, worried more about his book - his _freaking_ book - than his actual life. Whenever they talked, it was either about the book or, well, the book. She tried as much as she could to be interested in the adventures of the so called _Saviour_ \- she never remembered that girl's name. Probably Anne or something common - in the quaint little town of Storybrooke, Maine. She knew the Saviour was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, and that August had an incredible imagination to make up so much crap about so many different fairy tales.

But sometimes, she just wished she could randomly get up and leave the room or hit him with his laptop because he wouldn't _shut up._

So August was out.

Emma felt lonely. A month ago she had been happy. Happy with her relationship, happy with her friends, happy with her job; she had been happy with her life.

And now she didn't have a relationship, her friendships were slowly turning into probably one. Maybe even two - she couldn't believe Victor was in that list, but he still talked to her as if nothing had happened. She tried to ignore the calculating stare he sometimes gave her (specially when Killian entered the room. Not that she noticed) - but she could never be one hundred percent sure.

She missed her old life; but what she missed the most was Killian. She found herself missing the mirth that constantly danced in front of his eyes, now replaced by either a hurt look or no look at all. She found herself longing for the light touches on her arm, shoulder and leg. She found herself wanting to talk to him about this or that, to banter about what to cook or watch, to bicker about his accent or her choice of words. She missed Killian.

That wasn't something she easily accepted; she forced herself not to miss any of the boyfriends she'd had since she broke up with Neal too much, because she couldn't bear moping around the place, longing for men, was something she'd never seen the point in. She had her job, her friends; her life in general was not near bad.

But she was different, there was no way to deny it. Killian wasn't even her boyfriend. She tried to hide as much as she could, but nothing slipped from Mary Margaret Blanchard's studying green eyes.

"What is it?"

Emma looked up from her hands - she'd been picking on a scratch for a few days now, not letting it heal fully. She didn't know why she did it. "What?"

Mary Margaret narrowed her eyes. "What's _wrong_?," she clarified, enunciating the last word.

Emma blinked, glancing back at the television playing The Avengers. "Nothing's wrong."

"Who left?"

"You know Ruby's in Canada--"

"You don't sit in a corner looking at the wall because Ruby's in Canada, Emma," she raised a skeptical eyebrow, a hand resting on her already protruding belly. She hesitated before speaking again. "Is it Killian?" She snapped her head back towards her friend, eyebrows furrowed. How did she...? "Look, you haven't been telling me everything, have you? Ruby's become my personal informant."

"Even in Canada, that woman finds gossip to freak out about...," she mused under her breath, and the pixie haired brunette chuckled, right before sobering up.

"I'm serious, Emma, what happened?"

Emma studied Mary Margaret as attentively as the latter studied her. She had to admit, she was going to lose her mind if she didn't tell someone. "I just- I don't know where to start."

Mary Margaret sat back, eyes closing momentarily before fixing her gaze on Emma. "Start from the beginning."

Emma told her everything she was sure her friend didn't know. Halfway through the story, she began feeling embarrassed for not telling her any of this, and Mary Margaret had been her friend since before she even met Neal.

Bless Mary Margaret for being a perfect listener, she thought, as her friend piped in with questions and observations in proper times and places. Nods, hums, sympathetic touches and soft smiles, all perfectly placed in the conversation.

"So, wait, when did you start... _Liking_ him?" She hesitated before finishing the sentence, and Emma sort of understood why: it sounded so... Childish? They weren't teenagers anymore, it seemed odd to use that word. Alas, it was the one that fit.

Emma thought about it, because she wasn't sure. At all. The attraction had always been there, from the moment she had first stepped into the loft and seen the raven haired man with the ocean in his eyes and a gentle smile. She had felt her heart race slightly, both in surprise and disapproval - she had just broken up with her boyfriend. She couldn't feel like that for another man, yet, could she? -, her fingers already itching with curiosity about the texture of his hair or his skin.

She knew she had started caring about him - and all the others, if she was honest - after they helped her getting her stuff back from Neal's place. She was sure it had been just that for quite a while, specially because that was the period she had started trying to get back on the dating thing - which proved to be a bad idea. She sometimes wished she could quit life outside and spend every hour of the day inside -, but she couldn't really pinpoint the precise moment that turned into something more.

Thinking back to it, she slowly realised, ashamed, that what she was feeling for Killian didn't emerge out of nowhere between her relationships; she started having feelings for him while dating Walsh. Frowning deeply at the realisation, she couldn't help but feel bad. Sure, she wasn't completely miserable - Walsh was a dirty cheater - but she didn't know that at the time.

She thought back to everything - when she got punched by her fellow zombie in Halloween and how worried he was for her; when she got really drunk with the absinthe in Mary Margaret's boss's cabin and how he looked after her; when he came back home from an amazing night out because he noticed she needed company; when he didn't want to kiss her because some stupid game had been making them do it, rather waiting for when no one was truly expecting it; how patient he was being with her; how well he knew her and her walls; how ridiculous she felt when she had to look at him and _try_ to act normally.

She didn't know for how long she'd spaced out, but when she came back, Mary Margaret was still there, patiently waiting for her to answer the question.

When _had_ she started liking him?

And then it came to her.

"There was this one moment," she started softly, staring at nothing, absorbing the memory over everything, "right after I got punched in Halloween - you remember that -... It was later that night, I was a bit bummed that Walsh didn't want a proper relationship with me. He sort of... Comforted me?" Emma remembered it better now, as if saying it aloud intensified the occasion's importance in her mind.

(She had just put the ice bag back in the freezer and had sat down next to him, silent, slightly numb. She had been dumped. Rejected. _Again_.

She had noticed him frown out of the corner of her eye. "You know, love," she'd heard him say, and had turned to him, focusing on his eyes as she'd tried to shake off the feeling of fresh-new abandonment. "You _know_ he's a bloody idiot, right?" She'd chuckled. "No, really; only a fool would let you slip from their fingers." His smile was mesmerising, the crinkles on the corners of his eyes and the light in them making him more attractive than ever to her. "You deserve someone who's crazy about you, lass, not a git who ditches you like a bloody plastic cup in a party." The concealed anger in his voice also made him look better - but maybe that was just what her brain was programming her to feel instead of just gratitude and flatter.)

"I remember feeling different that moment," she continued, and finally looked at her friend, who was smiling. "What?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "I'm just- it's glad to see you happy again."

 _Happy_? She felt _horrible_.

Mary Margaret must have seen the look on her face, and permitted her smile to grow even wider. "For about a minute you didn't say anything. But you _were_ smiling, Emma."

"Does that mean something?"

"Yes," the pregnant woman affirmed vehemently.

"Should I do something about it?"

"Yes."

"Do I _have_ to do in on my own?"

" _Definitely_."

Emma groaned. She knew Mary Margaret was more than right, but she didn't know what to do. She just hoped her inner turmoil would eventually even out.

 

* * *

 

_"You're being ridiculous."_

_"Shut up, Jones, and stop being so blind. It's_ clearly _there."_

_"Whale, you should put on some glasses. Or, you know, change your brain."_

_"Killian--"_

Emma heard the argument from the hallway before entering the loft. It ceased when she turned the lock and entered through the door.

"What's all the fuss about?" She didn't bother with a greeting, she knew it wouldn't be reciprocated.

Victor got up, striding towards her. " _Killy Bear_ here has never been more blind in his life."

She really hoped this wasn't about her. Had Whale noticed she was acting differently? Had anyone noticed? Was he scolding Killian for not seeing it too?

Killian then got up, and again her heart raced. "Oh, come on, why won't you just accept I'm right?!"

"Okay, both of you, shut up. Why are both of you blind?"

"Killian can't see the squashed pigeon on the top of the building next door," Whale called out, pointing at the window.

"It cannot be _squashed_ ; what's squashed it?"

Emma was trying not to space out of the conversation - bickering -, but the fact that Killian wasn't, one: directing one word to her, and two: directing one look to her was disconcerting.

After about three minutes of incessant ' _I'm right, you're wrong_ ', Whale stormed off to his room to cool off. It wasn't that Emma had been too distracted, but, as soon as she heard his door slam shut, she became hyper aware of the fact that she was alone with Killian in a room. And he was looking anywhere but her.

Her face didn't even attempt a frown before she found herself opening her mouth. "What the hell?," she spoke, her eyes roaming his face.

This was Killian Jones, the man who had a special talent for flirting and teasing, no sense of personal space and was famous for bringing people's - Emma's - walls down and making them vulnerable; and he was staring at the doorframe that was over nine feet behind her. "What bothers you, love?"

"Why are you acting weird?"

"Excuse me?"

"Look at me."

"Swan, what does this--"

" _Look at me._ "

It took a few jaw clenches and long breaths, but he eventually did it, and she could say she half regretted asking for it. She saw hurt. Confusion, frustration and _hurt_.

"Tell me what's wrong." She just felt this inexplicable will to try and help him. "You're acting strange."

One more jaw clench. She couldn't get distracted. "I don't know, Emma, perhaps it's because you've been blatantly avoiding me." She didn't reply; she knew it was true. "These past days you can't keep me closer than arm's length; and, believe me, I've done everything I could to ignore that and keep trying." Her inner sensors were suddenly shouting for her to retreat and run, but she chose to tune them the hell down. "It's not my fault our friendship stopped being what it was." She was about to protest - because okay, it wasn't entirely his fault, but was he fully blaming her for all the shit that had been going on - when he raised his hands and his eyebrows. "I'm not saying it's yours either. I'm saying it's because of what happened. We can be both blamed or none; the point is, whatever the hell has happened between us is undoubtedly affecting the way we work. We have to figure things out before this goes down the drain."

His sudden change in the mood startled her, and she could feel her breathing start to come out in faster, shorter and irregular gasps. She could try controlling what she felt, but she couldn't. Why couldn't she pounce forward and kiss him? Why couldn't she leave all the struggles they'd had behind and create something fairly new in her life? Why couldn't she stop being herself and just do what felt odd and suspicious for once?

He frowned down at her and bent slightly to be at her eye level. His gaze swept over her face, and he probably noticed how distressed she was. Poor man probably didn't realise he could not help unless he kissed her and got all that over with.

She'd never felt like this. Sure, Neal had been special and even Walsh brought butterflies to her stomach, but Killian's presence was intoxicating and a breath of fresh air at the same time. It was like she was drowning but not really, because she had already reached the surface.

She had to slow down.

Scolding herself for being such an inarticulate dumbass - because what the hell, Emma? -, she stepped away and towards her room, croaking out an "I'll try my best." as she clenched her fists.

She didn't want to leave her room ever again. She wanted to crawl into a responsibility-and-feelings-free hole and die. She wanted to change, but maybe change was too much.

She cursed herself, cursed Killian Jones, cursed Mary Margaret and her freaking advices, cursed Ruby and Canada, cursed her phone for being out of battery and just passed out from both physical and emotional exhaustion less than ten minutes later, jeans still on and jacket thrown over the foot of the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still so angry at myself what the heck


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOOOOOkay so  
> Here's the thing. 
> 
> My muse has been in another galaxy. 
> 
> But sometimes she takes like a portal or something and comes back for a few hours and this comes out.

With Ruby now away, Emma didn't really have someone to text at three am when she couldn't sleep. Conveniently, the photoshoot required no cell reception or wi-fi. _Thanks, Canada._

Sighing when she looked at the late hour her phone displayed for the seventh time, she sat up, running her fingers through her hair and hoping sleep would magically take over. Of course _that_ didn't happen.

Tossing her legs out of bed, she padded to her door and opened it, her hands then proceeding to rub her eyes. She couldn't help but glance at Killian's door before she did so, and swallowed when she thought of his words earlier.

_It's not my fault our friendship stopped being what it was._

He was right; it wasn't. As he'd well put afterwards, it wasn't hers either. Something that kept nagging at her, though, was if he thought that was a bad thing or not.

She knew she hated it. She hated how patient he was. She hated how scarred she was. She felt like a deer in a road under his intense gaze, eyes wide as she leapt away in fear of getting hurt. It was almost a natural impulse: hide when the prospect of being happy appeared.

Could she possibly be any more confusing? She wanted him, and it was now clear he wanted her. Why couldn't she just give in to happiness and live her life in an acceptable way? Why couldn't she just live?

Did she fear it was too late? Did she fear it wasn't? How could she have this many questions about a heart she owns?

Opening the fridge with a strong pull, Emma decided to just give into her craving for cereal and just _eat_ freaking cereal. Who cared it was three in the morning? There was no one there to judge her except for herself.

In the quiet dark of the night, she sat on the couch, bowl in hand, the only lights visible being the moonlight shining through the windows, the various coloured spots of light on the TV, DVR, DVD, stereo...

She was startled out of her silent musing by soft padding in the corridor, and suddenly, the person she least expected to see appeared, face dimly lit by the gloomy light from the outside.

"Emma?," August called softly, voice heavy with sleep.

"What are _you_ doing up?," she asked instead of a greeting.

"You can't exactly be quiet when pouring and eating cereal," he raised an eyebrow and plopped down beside her, eyes sliding close.

"If you're so tired why did you sit down?," she couldn't help but enquire.

"Because I can see you're distressed and would be glad to help."

"And why this all of a sudden?"

"Because I know I haven't really been present or helpful lately. And I thought it was okay because I'm not the only person in your life. At the very least, you have Killian." Emma sighed. She didn't need that last part. "Or at least you did. And I'm pretty sure he is the reason you're distressed. So I feel I should be here for you because Ruby's up in the North, Whale is a general idiot and Mary Margaret sleeps at, what, nine thirty?" Emma chuckles, but can't help but feel mildly impressed he actually did know what was happening around him. "So all I want you to do is tell me what's troubling you," he concluded, opening his eyes and fixing them on her, head still lolled back, just slightly turned to the side.

She pondered over his request, but felt slightly wary. Putting her bowl aside - grieving slightly over the now surely soggy flakes at the bottom of the bowl - she wriggled her hands together. "Are you sure you want details?"

"I never said that, please keep it as _brief_ as possible."

She smirked at him. She forgot how much she enjoyed August's company. "Well," she started, now serious. "I'm pretty sure he's into me--"

"No shit, Sherlock," he muttered, and she deftly ignored.

"--but I'm pretty sure I'm into him too--"

"No shit, Sh--"

"--and so much crap has gone down and I've screwed up so much and have been screwed over so much. It's like I can't accept to be happy."

"There's actually a name for that," he said without missing a beat. After he spent full fifteen seconds in silence, she urged him to continue. "Oh, no I don't remember it. But I do know there's a name and a phobia. They also call it 'fear of happiness'. It's when you're so scared something will go wrong if you feel happy, you just don't even allow yourself to feel proper happiness." She thought about it, and he took her silence as encouragement. "That doesn't mean you can't overcome it, though. It just adds on to your will."

"That's very wise, Booth," she complimented, bumping her shoulder into him. She then heaved a sigh, both shoulders dropping in helplessness. "What should I do then, Yoda? How can I overcome it? How can I stop being so _afraid_ and just go to him and tell him how I feel?"

"Knowing that telling someone to just go for it is just dumb," he started, suddenly getting up, "I'd recommend you to help him on. Like subtly urge him on or just hint you're open for more. I mean, sure, you can just go for it, like appear from your room and tackle him or something. But maybe beat around the bush for a while."

"I'll try, August," she assured him, and she meant it for the second time. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, Emma," he smiled softly at her, and she felt the unexpected warm wave of fondness travel across her chest. "After all, everyone should have their happy ending."

She rolled her eyes at him, nodding when he bid her goodnight and retreated to his room.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Emma woke up sore. Her neck was killing her and she felt as if someone had kneed her lower back. Softly groaning at the pain, she sat up quickly, not willing to remain on the Uncomfortable Sofa of Death. She didn't even remember falling asleep; all she recalled were the hundreds of different scenarios that sprang across her mind in a few minutes before she passed out of exhaustion a few hours before. All of them involving how she would break the news to Killian.

_Surprise, surprise, I want a proper relationship with you._

Getting up and marching to her room, she was closing the door when Killian opened his, and her heart raced as soon as they briefly made eye contact - but then the door closed and Emma was left alone with her clenching jaw and closed fists.

She needed a vacation - or time to think where her mind would make proper sense.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Emma," Whale called when she finally left her room, much later, in early evening. She had fed on cookies the whole day, she needed _proper_ food.

"Hey, Victor," she replied in the same tone.

"No, seriously, join us."

"What are you doing?," she asked, examining the scene before her: Whale strewn over the couch, August lying on the floor and Killian on the armchair, an arm thrown over his eyes.

"We were casually _chatting_ , but Whale decided to start sharing stories and I'm regretting having befriended him," August answered from the floor, now sitting up.

"And why the interesting setting?"

"Sharing stories with friends is strange, I'd rather do it to a doctor. So Killian is being my makeshift psychiatrist," said the blonde man, gesturing toward his friend.

"And who is August, exactly?"

"The doctor's puppy?," he suggested, and chuckled when August himself scoffed.

She crossed her arms, wary yet curious. "And what kind of stories are you sharing?"

"Losing my V-card, of course; what else?," he replied bluntly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and she was too dumb to figure that out.

"That's not an image I'd like to picture, thank you," she scowled, a light grimace on her lips.

"Emma, you weren't here when he talked about how hot the girl from his Frankenstein fan club was," August cut her, and she closed her eyes.

"Not helping."

"Come on, Emma, take a seat. August was just about to tell us _his_ story; weren't you, August?" Whale sat up cheerfully, making Killian uncover his eyes.

" _No_?"

"Yeah, you were. Go on, we won't judge."

It took a bit of urging from Whale's end, but August went on to tell his story, and Emma sometimes spaced out to her own story.

A rather _ridiculous_ story, that was, and she was also forced to share it with the class later on.

Victor had demanded she texted Ruby - who was spending the day in Vancouver, aka place with cell reception - asking for her story, which then led to the four of them crowding around Emma's phone as she played the five minute long voice message her friend had _gladly_ sent.

Five minutes that felt like a hell lot more, just like the rest of the stories she'd heard that night - Whale had insisted he repeated his just so Emma could hear the whole thing -, and she was emotionally tired when August sprung up from his seat against the coffee table when his phone chimed and he yelped " _My agent._ ".

Less than a minute later, Emma received her own text message.

_Mary Margaret's contractions just started. Heading to the hospital now._

She herself sprung up at that, a breathy " _Oh my god_ " coming out of her mouth before she could stop it. She was going to be an aunt. Well, not a _legitimate_ aunt, but definitely a godmother, as Mary Margaret never tired of saying.

She knew she had a lot of time - Jesus, _hours_ , really -, but the realisation that it was finally happening excited her.

"What's wrong?," Victor demanded, worried.

"Mary Margaret's having contractions," she informed the both of the remaining men. "The baby's coming."

"That's amazing!," Whale exclaimed. "Oh, by the way," he added, "tell Mary Margaret that, whatever advice she needs on the taking care of the baby, she can come to me and I'll tell her whatever she likes to know, free of charge."

And just like that, Victor Whale, frustrating womaniser, becomes Dr Victor Whale, responsible doctor that works at an _actual_ hospital and saves _actual_ lives.

"I will, I'll just change and go to the hospital," she unzips her hoodie. "They should be heading there now."

"Do you need a ride?," Killian offered, and she was so wrapped up in the moment, she quickly turned it down before realising it was the first time they directed a word to each other since she'd entered the room.

She swallowed, glancing back at him one last time before going into her room and changing into jeans and boots and grabbing her jacket.

When she reached the door, she noticed Whale was gone and Killian was cleaning up their - surprisingly few - beer bottles from the coffee table.

She was in a hurry, but, as she'd put, she had a few hours before anything special started happening; so she turned around when she reached for the doorknob, and fixed him with her gaze before finally speaking. "You never shared yours."

He looked up, seeming startled by her voice. "What, love?"

"Your story. How you lost your ' _card_ '," she clarified, taking one small step towards him.

He pondered over her remark, eyes never travelling from hers, and, when a tiny smile took over his lips, her heart started feeling lighter. "Eliza Davis. I had the ghastly idea to have a picnic in the woods. She kept her shirt on; I cried." His smile grew when the lightest of chuckles left her lips. "It was nice," he concluded softly.

Her own smile enlarged, and she made sure to nod in goodbye when she opened the door and left the apartment, walking down the hall way more slowly than she would have allowed herself to five minutes ago. She pressed the elevator button and waited, sighing when the doors opened and stepping in. She'd sworn she'd heard the sound of a lock turning as she did so, but shook her head when the doors stated closing.

When a hand appeared on the edge of the moving metal surface, though, closely followed by blue eyes and raven hair, she knew her heart had all the reasons to start beating as fast as if she'd just run a marathon.

"Swan," she heard, and he pulled the doors opened, standing right between them so they wouldn't close. "I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend everything is _okay_ with me because it's definitely not. It can't be a coincidence I feel better whenever you're near, just as it can't be a coincidence I've never been more certain about my feelings for someone."

He gazed at her with his big, blue eyes, and the long step he took towards her made the cord of control inside of her snap. She met him halfway to the kiss, placing her hands on his neck and cheek and holding him against her as she pressed his lips against hers.

For the third time, she experienced something new. The amount of feeling each one of them poured into the kiss was almost overwhelming, his hands on her back pressing her against him more and more each second that passed. Every time she thought it was impossible to be closer to him, he proved her wrong.

She had to admit, kissing him was rapidly approaching the highest ranks in her list of favourite things to do. His lips were soft yet certain, delicate but strong. His rough scruff scratched against her chin and cheek in the most pleasurable way, and the way he groaned when she scratched her nails over it did things to her she couldn't really explain. Or maybe she could, she didn't know.

He started pulling her out of the elevator after what seemed like hours, and she would have laughed at how desperate she felt if she didn't feel as desperate as she did.

Letting her hands skim from his neck to his shoulders, then his chest, she allowed her fingers to wrap around the collar of his jacket - he was wearing his jacket; she'd only realised it now. Was he willing to go after her in the cold if he hadn't caught her in the elevator?

Now aware of his jacket, she started yanking it off his shoulders as they closed the front door and reached the hallway to the bedrooms.

"Which one?," she breathily asked.

"I don't _bloody_ care," he answered impatiently against her lips, and she pushed him inside his own room, letting the door slam behind them as she guided him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO HAPPY THIS IS FINALLY HAPPENING OH MY GOD
> 
> (Y'all smut lovers out there, I am very sorry, but my incapability to properly write it makes it impossible for me to produce something decent)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO THE NEW ONE TURNS A YEAR ON THE 19TH THIS MONTH AND THAT MAKES ME AWFULLY EMOTIONAL. 
> 
> Beware, this one's a beast for my standards. I've been writing for five hours non stop and this happened. I think I felt guilty for not having been able to write in such a long time, I just had to post something. 
> 
> Or. That might have had something to do with ouAT HAVING GOTTEN BACK FROM THE ENDLESS WINTER HIATUS GOODBYE WAIT YOU UNFATHOMABLE BITCH
> 
> Anyway, thanks for sticking to this monster, it's beyond me how this story reached the level it's in now. Really, thank you.

When Emma first opened her eyes, she was thoroughly confused on why the environment around her looked so different. It wasn't the living room, or her bedroom. Her mind travelled to the possibility that she could have slept in the _bathroom_ even, before she realised. It was _Killian's_ bedroom. And Killian himself was lying beside her, hugging the pillow with his back - _bare_ back, mind you - partially turned to her. She could see his mop of dark hair from where she lay, and her fingers itched to run through it. She was sure he wouldn't mind, but she didn't want to wake him. 

Her lips stretched before she could stop it. She should have opened up and let him in sooner. Her heart felt as light as a feather and she didn't feel like she had any worries. She just wanted to stay in bed, next to him, for the entire day. _It is Sunday, after all._

She shifted, lying on her side, facing him. He moved as well, his head turning toward her as he snuggled closer, but he didn't wake up.

She loved how young he looked while he slept. She'd caught a few glimpses of his still form on the couch on lazy afternoons or during alcohol induced naps when he left his door opened. His forehead was free of the wrinkle that insisted in taking a place there all the time, his eyebrows relaxed, his long lashes - _incredibly_ long, wow - resting against his cheeks in a way she could only describe as boyish.

She allowed herself one caress, one featherlight soft stroke of her finger against his cheek, before she closed her eyes again and waited for a proper hour to rise.

 

* * *

 

When she opened her eyes again, she was alone. The mattress wasn't exactly cold beside her, but it didn't feel as if someone had lay there for a while.

She sat up, ears almost perking in search of a sound, and then she heard it.

Voices. Coming from the living room. Her shoulders relaxed when she heard Killian's, but tensed right after when she heard Ingrid's. _Ingrid_. Ingrid Fisher, the woman who was almost an aunt to her. The woman who lived in _Maine_. What was she doing here, early in the morning? And talking to Killian?

_Oh no._

Emma remembered how protective she used to be of her and David, always wary of everything that happened, specially with Emma. The girl herself had come to her after she had started dating Neal, and was one of the first to receive a call when they broke up. She remembered how cold she'd been to Mary Margaret when she and David had started dating - but of course it only lasted a few weeks before Mary Margaret's insatiable positivity and good character got to her heart and made her warm up to her.

Emma got out of bed as quickly and silently as possible. She grabbed her clothes from the floor - and smiled at the memory of the previous night - and put on her tank top on, all her underwear and one of Killian's flannel shirts - just because -. Tiptoeing to the door, she opened it slowly and peeked out.

Ingrid - it really _was_ her, holy crap - had her back turned to her, and she almost saw Killian's ears perk up at the sight of her. He was decent enough to keep up with his act and not openly acknowledge her presence, but Emma's heart surely beat faster at the tiny smile that threatened to spread across his lips.

Or maybe it was because of the tray he held in his hands, pancakes, eggs, a cup of hot cocoa - she could see the whipped cream - and a flower she didn't recognise in an empty beer bottle. She definitely smiled wide at that.

Emma, sobering up, focused on the conversation.

"...looks like it's for a lady," Ingrid was saying, and Emma swallowed. Praying the woman didn't turn around, she stepped forward minimally.

"It's for _Augustus_ ," Killian started, frowning. Emma did the same. _Augustus?_ He stepped forward and handed the tray to August, who she'd just realised was there too his back also to her. "Here, Augustus, your pancakes, eggs, even your... Hot cocoa." He cleared his throat as his friend grabbed it.

"Is it because it's my birthday?" August asked, hopefully.

"It's your birthday?" _It's his birthday?_ She spent two seconds remembering the date. May 27th. _Oh no._ It was Ruby's birthday. But it was also August's birthday. "It's your birthday. That's why I made it, mate."

August sighed, interrupting her internal reverie. "I know you're lying - and I'm partially hurt -, but you do make good pancakes, so I'm eating this anyway." And off to the kitchen he went.

"So, _Ingrid_ ," Killian started over, crossing his arms and stepping back a little. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"Ruby!," she exclaimed, letting go of her suitcase's handle and lacing her fingers together in front of her. "It's her 30th birthday; I came to see her. I spoke to David, he said I should come see Emma and the three of us could go out for lunch."

Killian furrowed his brow, as did Emma. "David didn't tell you?" When Ingrid said nothing, he went on. "I'm afraid Ruby's travelling, she comes home in about a week."

Emma smiled again. She'd only told him when Ruby came back once. And he still remembered.

She didn't want Ingrid to be here; she wanted time alone with Killian. So they could talk, so they could just stay in bed all day. She didn't want stress today, she wanted peace and _Killian_.

"Oh, that's too bad. Perhaps I could just call her later with Emma." That was when she looked around, her eyes failing to spot green eyed  in the shadows. "Where is she anyway?"

She had to come out at some point, and this seemed the most appropriate it could get. Making sure she looked presentable _enough_ , she stepped out; and pretended to look awfully surprised at the sight of Ingrid, who fully turned around and went in for a hug.

"Emma! It's so good to see you, honey."

"Ingrid, what a surprise," she dragged, and looked at Killian over the older woman's shoulder, channeling her growing despair in one confused glance. She just saw him shrug.

When they parted, Ingrid went on and on about her trip, about how long her flight felt and how sorry she felt that Ruby was over in Canada.

After about ten minutes of Emma and Killian _listening_ to her talk, the former interrupted her. "Well, I better get changed real quick, we can catch up in a minute." She got up from her seat on the couch's armrest as fast as she could, and her heart fluttered when she heard Killian do the same and trail after her.

She got into her own room, but widened her eyes at him right before she closed her door when their gazes linked.

She put on jeans - knowing Ingrid would soon invite her for lunch out - and her boots, but didn't really feel like changing out of Killian's shirt. She could do it later - she'd much rather spend an hour with Killian's scent enveloping her than nothing at all.

When she came out, Killian was pacing around the dining table, and Ingrid had her suitcase opened on the coffee table, sorting out clothes and random things on the couch. Emma didn't bother going to her; she walked straight towards Killian, who stopped his pacing and met her halfway there.

"What exactly do you think David was up to when he sent her here, love?," he asked her, his voice laced with the weight of too many questions.

"Ingrid's always been... Difficult," she attempted. Fearing it wasn't enough, she continued. "It took her forever to accept Mary Margaret was part of his life, even more to accept she's now his family." Her eyes widened again at a certain thought. "She cannot know about what happened." She was surprised she didn't see a spec of hurt on his face, as if he didn't need anything else to understand the situation. Maybe he didn't. She had to get used to that. "We have to figure it out ourselves before letting it out. She could _kill you_ if she found out by someone else, so it's better we keep this from as many people as we can. So just let me handle her--"

"Smile!," they heard from the couch, and suddenly Ingrid was holding a camera and Emma could do nothing but stretch the corners of her mouth. "That's a nice one. I'll send it to you later, Emma."

Emma wrinkled her brow. "Thanks." She looked back at Killian, who watched the short exchange, amused. "Just try not to say much. I'll try my best." He nodded promptly and she had to physically step back to avoid crashing into him in a bone-crushing hug. He was too understanding for his own good and seemed happy to oblige her wishes on this. She didn't deserve having him in her life. "Ingrid, why don't we, um, go out for lunch or something? I could show you a bit of LA, if you want--" She was suddenly interrupted by the ring of her phone in her hand. "It's my boss... Hello?"

Apparently, a perp she'd been after for over two months had just risen from the shadows and Emma could catch him today if she managed to arrive there in thirty minutes.

At the sight of her distressed yet slightly relieved expression, Killian stepped closer when she hung up. "I have a lead. On a perp I've been after for months. I have to go," she said as she walked over to the armchair and grabbed her jacket.

Ingrid's shoulders sagged and she laid the camera on her suitcase.

"Ingrid, you should come with me!," she suggested in a desperate attempt. "It's pretty exciting."

"And get killed by a criminal?" She looked slightly scandalised Emma would even suggest such a thing, but walked over to Killian. "No, thank you, I'll stay with him."

"Oh, that's a bad idea," Killian affirmed; Emma nodded.

"A bad idea; why?"

"I've got, uh, _stuff_ to do." God, this is going downhill way faster than it should.

"Name one 'stuff'," Ingrid demanded, and Emma could slightly see why she herself was so blunt - having someone as determined as Ingrid being a constant part of her late childhood and early teenage years very likely influenced her personality.

" _Documents_?," he weakly answered, and Emma rolled her eyes. How this man could lure women into going home with him with on-point flirting was now beyond her.

Ingrid sighed sadly. "It's okay, I understand. I'm mostly alone, a day wouldn't make a difference." She sat down slowly, her hands folded on her lap.

Emma internally cursed; she knew that move. She'd fallen for that move herself many times over the years. She turned to Killian, who watched Ingrid worried. "No," she whispered, and he turned to her. "Don't fall for it."

"I can't, love."

"It's a trick."

"I know."

"She wants you to feel sorry for her."

"I am."

"Don't fall for it."

"Emma, I--"

"Don't fall for it."

"I can't, I'm falling for it." He then turned back to Ingrid. "Don't worry, I can stay. Those documents can wait."

Emma rubbed her forehead tiredly - she'd just woken up from a very pleasant sleep - just as Ingrid's lips formed a large smile.

_May the hell begin._

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, Emma pitied her poor bug. Other times, she wished she could throw that piece of garbage in a trash pile with her bare hands. And she fought against the car's age and hurried through the streets of the city, hoping to reach the location her boss had pointed to before it was too late.

By the time she was halfway there, she realised she couldn't magically make the car go faster and tried to relax. When she stopped at a red light, she grabbed her phone and called Ruby, putting it on speaker mode. Suspecting her friend wouldn't pick up, she was surprised when the beeping stopped her her voice filled the car. _"Hello?"_

"Happy birthday, Rubs!"

 _"Emma Swan, how come even Killian called me before you did?"_ The happiness in her friend's voice betrayed the slightly hostile words.

Her heart almost stopped. "Killian called you?"

 _"Yeah. And he seemed rather chipper for the hour of the morning. Any clue of what happened?"_ Even being thousands of miles away and speaking through a phone, Emma could very clearly hear the hope in her best friend's voice.

She shrugged despite her being alone. "Actually, no."

Ruby hummed, not yet convinced. _"Hey, good news: I'm coming back earlier than I previously thought."_

"When?"

_"In like, two days."_

"I honestly don't know how modelling takes so long to happen. Don't you just stand in front of cameras and look amazing and excel at what you do?"

_"Oh, honey. It's so much more."_

Emma would be happy to keep the happy bickering, but another subject took over her head in less than a second. "Ruby?" She hummed, urging her to go on. "Ingrid's here."

Ruby was silent for over ten seconds. _"Ingrid? As in_ the _Ingrid?"_

"Yes."

_"Right after what happened between you and Killian?"_

Emma was the one to stay silent for a while now. "What happened between us?"

 _"Oh,_ please _, Emma, a deaf person could hear it in both your voices that you got laid. And I'm in_ Canada _. You have to tell me later but let's fix this first."_ Ruby seemed to be moving somewhere quieter so they could discuss it. _"Why is she there?"_

"She didn't know you were away and came so we could have lunch," Emma clarified. "I still don't know why, though. It's not like she met you when she was an active person in my life; just later."

_"I suppose adults just like me."_

" _We're_ adults."

_"Trust me, we're not. But it doesn't matter. Tell her I'm coming earlier, so she can crash over at mine's. I suppose she'll be spending the night at the loft?"_

"She will," Emma replied, and her nose wrinkled at the image of Ingrid lying next to her on her bed - which was exactly what should happen that night. "Why would you, though?"

_"Because you need some alone time with Killian? Are you actually asking me this?"_

 

* * *

 

When Emma arrived at the small, almost invisible shop amongst the taller buildings around, where her boss had assured her there was a definite lead on her perp, she felt her bail bondsperson soul take over her and she stood up straighter, walked with more confidence and stoned her face. Opening the door, the heard the bell over her head and let it fall closed behind her.

Behind the counter stood an old-ish man, dark suit and expression. He was cleaning - polishing, whatever - a small object - she thought it was a cup - when he looked up. "You must be Miss Swan, yes?" His light Scottish accent caught her by surprise, but she didn't flinch.

"Yeah," she answered, and looked around. She'd seen it was a pawn shop before she entered, the sign over the door quite specifically appointing so; but she didn't quite understand how this man could possibly have a clue to where her perp was and how she could get him. "Who are you?"

"You can call me Mr Gold; it's how... Everyone does." Why did she feel like every word he said was rehearsed? But why did none of them trigger her internal lie detector? This man put her off, and she didn't like it one bit.

 

* * *

 

In the end, he did have a clue. But it had a price. Emma had to give up a necklace she had since she's gotten into college, but she assumed it was worth it, because, not only was the perp now very trackable, but Mr Gold warned her the man could start causing actual danger.

"I suggest you run off to get him quickly, dearie," he said as she turned around to leave five minutes later. "It would certainly be a shame to have such a disturbed man out and about in society."

She nodded at him and went outside, getting into her car as fast as she could just to leave that place quickly. Mr Gold disturbed her in many ways; she didn't feel like standing near him ever again.

About ten minutes after she'd pulled away from the curb, her phone ringed. "Hello?"

 _"Hi, Emma."_ It was Ingrid, and she blinked quickly, having absolutely forgotten about how Killian was still alone with her. _"How's work going?"_

"Good, just got the lead, heading up to the office to start on the tracking and paperwork. I'm catching this guy today." She admitted she was saying that mostly to herself.

_"Fantastic, honey. I know you will."_

"How's everything going over there?" She could only hope _well_.

_"Surprisingly well. We've talked quite a lot, and Killian here's shown to be quite a gentleman. Just now he was telling me of this lady he's been seeing, and I can only say she's a lucky woman."_

_What?!_ "That's nice," Emma put on a mask she usually only wears for bail jumpers on dates with her and calms her voice. "Hey, Ingrid, can I speak to him really quickly?"

 _"Sure."_ She passed the phone over to Killian freaking Jones.

_"Afternoon, lass-"_

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Jones; didn't I tell you not to tell her anything?!"

 _"Relax, Swan,"_ he said in a low tone, as if he were trying to not let Ingrid hear what they were talking about. She huffed. We went on. _"Doesn't mean_ I _have to, though: when are you coming home, love? This is torture."_

She had to chuckle at that, as if his hopeless misery spending the day with Ingrid were an evil plan gone right. "I don't know how long it'll take for everything. Give me three of four hours."

 _"_ Four _hours?! Bloody hell, Swan, you're killing me."_

She couldn't help herself: before she knew it, she was already smirking and talking. "Worse things can kill you, Killian."

_"Emma, don't."_

She laughed again and said goodbye, hanging up. For the rest of the ride over to the office, she had a smile on her face.

 

* * *

 

She caught the perp in the end, obviously. Scratched her elbow and hurt her back in the process, but she caught him.

She turned the key in the lock and stepped into the loft, and felt the tension as soon as she took a look at Ingrid sitting on the couch and Killian on the farthest chair in the dining table, head in his hands. The both of them looked up when she closed the door, and only one of them looked guilty. Hint: Ingrid looked _pissed_.

_No. Oh, no._

"What happened?", she wondered aloud as she took in the two cushions on the floor and the disheveled state of Ingrid's normally impeccable hair.

The older woman made to speak, but Killian got up and hurried over to Emma, pulling her aside into the hallway and swallowing - Emma pretended to ignore the movement of his Adam's apple as he did so. "Emma, promise me not to get angry--"

" _Definitely_ not."

"Fair enough. Okay." He took a deep breath. "I told Ingrid about us."

"What the _hell_ , Killian? What were you thinking?"

"On the contrary of what you might be guessing now, love, I was _indeed_ thinking," he asserted, arms crossing in front of him. "I told her on purpose. I wanted her to like me; I want all parent-like figures to like me. I wonder what that's about."

"What _is_ this, Emma?," coaxed Ingrid, who was now standing closer to them.

"I don't know what this is, we haven't exactly had the chance to talk it out yet." _This is exactly why I didn't want anyone to know._

"Are you behind on rent or something; I can lend you some money if that's the issue."

Emma scowled. "That's... _Not_ the issue, Ingrid, we--"

"When did this happen?"

Emma looked at Killian, throwing him a glance that clearly meant ' _don't answer that_ '. "Can you not make questions like this?" Emma rubbed her eyes, exhausted, thankful she didn't put any make up on that morning.

"Why _him_ , Emma? He's a lazy drunk, why pick _him_?" She pointed at Killian accusingly, as if he'd just stabbed someone she cared deeply for.

"You don't _know_ him, Ingrid, you can't say that about him," Emma objected lowly, feeling personally offended of how superficial she was being.

"Oh, but I _do_ know him. For more years that I can count quickly, I've lived surrounded by men like that. Men who didn't care for me, for us. Men who thought power was theirs. So I do know him, Emma, and I know you've made a bad choice you shouldn't have made in the first place."

Emma felt like kicking her out. She supposed Killian would stand taller and taller and puff his chest and defend his honour at each word Ingrid said, but, at each of those, he seemed to deflate a bit. She looked at him, not being able to help worrying, and her heart ached with the hopeless look on his face, his eyes fixed on the floor behind Ingrid.

"I'm staying here tonight," Ingrid declared firmly. "And I don't mean just the loft. I brought an air mattress; I'll sleep right here on this _very_ spot. So you two can't _sneak out_ of each other's rooms to make out at three in the morning and ignore my existence." The amount of disgust in Ingrid's voice irked Emma, and she didn't move until the older blonde turned around and walked to the suitcase, looking for the goddamn compacted air mattress.

When Killian made to go into his room, she held his forearm. "Killian." She moved around, facing him and pulling him a bit so they were partially out of Ingrid's sight. "Don't believe anything she says."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I can assure you none of it's not true." She squeezed his arm, and lead her other hand to his chest, skimming her fingers lightly over his shirt, hoping that could soothe him even a bit. He smiled lightly at her, and she took that as a confirmation. "Don't think anything she says will get in the way of... Well, _whatever_ this is."

He then frowned. "Oh, no, love, I never thought it would. No, I spent too long fighting for this to give up over a few words. Doesn't mean I'm personally immune to them though."

"Well," she mused. "Consider yourself immune now." She stretched her neck, kissing the corner of his mouth and considering that a mark. A mark to both of them, him and herself, that she would from now on be there, for him, for them.

 

* * *

 

Emma couldn't sleep, though, of course. She could still feel his hands on her upper arm from a few hours before. Ingrid had been inflating her air mattress - she refused to use the bomb, she breathed into the whole thing - and Emma sneaked into the bathroom, managing to steal a goodnight kiss from him before it was too late.

It'd been a while since Emma had felt like this. _Truly_ happy; she could almost giggle. Emma Swan didn't _giggle_. She wanted to be near him at all times. It was as if his eyes were these magnificent kaleidoscopes and she was a child who was always seeing them for the first time. She was always mesmerised. She just wanted to hold his hand and touch his skin and kiss the hell out of him whenever she could. She wanted to be in a proper relationship with him more than she had ever been with anyone.

Her phone lighted up on her bedside table and she turned on her bed. Reaching out, she first checked the time. 2 AM. Then she saw it was a text from Killian. She didn't even open it; she sprung up as quietly as she could as soon as she read the preview.

_Roof._

Putting on a comfortable woollen coat, she silently opened her door, careful it to touch Ingrid and the air mattress, and slowly closed it, heading for the front door, out of it, and up the stairs.

When she reached the metal door that opened to the roof, she hesitated. For a second only. She then shook her head and opened it, the cold night unusual with the nearing summer weather, hitting her as soon as she stepped out.

The first thing she saw was stars. All over the sky. Well, maybe not _all_ over - it _was_ LA -, but she hadn't seen so many of them in a long, _long_ time.

The second thing she saw was Killian Jones standing with his hands behind his back, right next to a bistro table. On it, the tray he'd been bringing her that morning.

"What's this?" She asked when she was about fifteen feet away from him, a small smile taking over her lips.

He was already smiling, eyes crinkling a bit on the corners. "A peace offering to whatever the bloody hell keeps trying to pull us apart," he shrugged, a dark eyebrow raising.

She stepped closer, burying her hands in her coat pockets.

"Look, Emma, I want this to work. I don't want _things_ standing in our way, preventing us from doing what we want to do and being who we want to be. I agree with you, love: to hell with what Ingrid and the rest of society will probably say; I have faith we can work out just fine. As long as you do too. So, what do you say, Swan? Are willing to take 'whatever this is' and turn it into a badass relationship between a dashing rapscallion and one of the strongest women he's ever known?" He took from behind his back a flower - a red rose.

She glanced between the rose and his eyes, red and blue contrasting in the night. "It's not the same flower."

He tilted his head, shrugging once more. "I'm not the same man."

Her smile widened impossibly as she took the flower and left it on the tray, walking over to him and wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips clashing against his as her hands run through the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands travelling from her waist to her back, pulling her closer and closer until there was no space between them.

Emma couldn't really believe her own feelings when she looked over them, but she could _actually_ be falling for Killian Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP. THAT HAPPENED. 
> 
> It was so hard to find someone to replace Bob though. My mind changed like five times. 
> 
> Now on to a more serious situation. For a while now, I've noticed the comments have dropped as the story goes on. Don't get me wrong, I'm not someone 'moved by them', nor will I only post a chapter once I get an x number of comments. I think that's actually bad. 
> 
> I'm just wary of where this is going and how you guys are liking it. I only post it here so I can try to entertain people with something I think I'm more than okay at. I just need to know how I'm going. 
> 
> Also, this isn't me fishing for comments. You can comment if you want, leave a review if you understand my situation and would like to do something. As long as you keep viewing, as long as I'm receiving kudos, I can know I'm doing okay enough to keep this going smoothly. The comments are just a better way of knowing. 
> 
> In the end, I just want to thank you all. For being here and everything. Like, you know. Reading this.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is technically the last chapter but there's still the epilogue aka content aka the end aka thing I'm definitely not ready for.

Saying the next two days with Ingrid muttering and mumbling disapprovingly under her breath while walking around the house were _difficult_ was an understatement. By Tuesday night, Emma was ready to throw her out. Thankfully, Ruby would be arriving the next morning, and she would be out of the place. Her friend was eager to come home, after spending long enough in the cold of Canada in _less_ layers than the weather required. 

She and Killian were... Holding up. For such a fresh and recent relationship, Emma felt almost _too_ comfortable around him for her own good. And for once, she wasn't scared he wouldn't take off as soon as he pleased. She felt like she could be vulnerable around him and expose her scars, and he wouldn't try to open them again or create new ones.

Time was passing slowly for them. On Monday, he had the night off at the bar and she had no cases. They spent the entire day watching Netflix ("David Tennant is officially ruined for me; he's the Doctor and always will be." "Your inner England is showing." "My inner England is _always_ showing, love.") and doing whatever they could to tune out the universe outside and live only in their own little world, wrapped up in each other's presence. Thankfully, there was no one home, or she'd be rather embarrassed of how fond she was of _cuddling_.

Speaking of, Emma had found rather odd of how little of Victor she'd been seeing. He'd buried himself to the neck with work and spent more nights at the hospital than she'd ever seen him do ever since Ruby went to Canada. Even when she finally came back on Wednesday morning, she could see he was spending more time at the hospital out of will, not need.

At ten in the morning, Ruby came to say hello and - not at all subtly - take Ingrid away from the loft.

Killian was still sleeping, his late shift at the bar having ended up even later the night before due to a a full on fist fight, but that didn't stop Ruby from giving Emma the most suggestive look she'd ever received. Shaking her head and nodding towards Ingrid, she sighed.

"Well, Ingrid, despite the, well," Emma hesitated for a second, but decided to just go on, " _annoyance_ you've shown in the past days, it was surprisingly nice to see you. For a few hours."

Ingrid pursed her lips, but her eyes weren't as hard as they were before. "Thank you, Emma. I missed you too; and we should see each other more. I suppose I'll just...," she glanced at Killian's door, "have to get use to it. After all, despite my distaste towards the gentleman, Killian is good to you."

Emma frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

" _Oooookay_ , you two," Ruby interrupted, aware that sentence would trigger a recurring argument. "Time to go, Ingrid; come on."

With one last over-the-shoulder smile, the two of them went out the door.

Emma _expected_ to feel relieved when she finally went away, but the wave of comfort she hadn't felt since she'd woken up on Sunday and didn't know had gone from her in the first place washed over her and she sighed. Finally, she felt like she could be with Killian and not worry about someone close to her not enjoying the idea. She'd told herself over and over again in this very long weekend that, despite thinking Ingrid's opinion was important, she had to think for herself and make decisions regardless to what others thought. Only at the minute Ingrid went away did Emma truly believe that.

 

* * *

  

Killian only woke up two hours later, and she was preparing her lunch - because they _were_ alone - when he lazily swaggered into the kitchen, taking a spot next to her before the counter, watching her movements as she made herself a grilled cheese. After feeling she was being thoroughly scrutinised, she stilled her movements, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised a second later.

"Good morning, Jones," she said slowly, slightly wary of his silence. Killian Jones didn't do silence, unless he was lurking and brooding in a corner - which clearly wasn't the case, given his toothless dopey smile.

He cleared from her space, leaning his back on the counter opposite to her. "So, I hear Ingrid took off in a portal to another reality," he started, and she abandoned her work, turning fully toward him and resting her own back on the edge of the polished stone surface.

"You hear? How would you hear about that?"

"A little bird told me."

"Is that little bird's name ' _eavesdropping_ '?"

He lifted an eyebrow almost to his hairline. "It's not eavesdropping if the conversation's openly happening in our living room, love."

_Our_ living room. Sounded different now that they were in a proper relationship. Before, she'd felt as if they were roommates. Now it sounded like a whole new level in the relationship itself. Her heart beat faster and it was almost hard breathing for a moment. She wasn't scared, was she? No, that was different. It was almost as if she was too happy. She loved it.

She loved _him_.

_Nope. Too soon._

Afraid she'd spaced out, Emma chuckled quickly. "Point taken."

Killian crossed his arms, and she didn't even try to hide how she stared at the motion appreciatively. "So, Swan, how do you propose we spend our day until I'm off to the bar?"

"Well," she tilted her head. "First, maybe I could finish this grilled cheese as you eat breakfast?"

He smiled wider, a smirk slowly forming. "Sounds like a plan to me."

 

* * *

 

Turns out that they did more than just eating.

At six in the afternoon, he kissed her goodbye, jacket in hand, smelling wonderfully, and was off to work. Not ten minutes went by and Emma was already putting on her own jacket, tired of being alone in the loft - August was _actually_ out instead of in his room - and sure she'd much rather spend more time in his company than not.

On the way over to the bar, Emma thought about everything that'd happened, and how much things had changed.

She thought about Killian: if he received lustful looks from women across the bar, phone numbers, suggestions. Smiling a little, she told herself that of _course_ he got all of those. Didn't mean he reciprocated. She was sure he didn't.

There was still that little voice in the far back of her head that always told her she could be wrong.

Thankfully, she'd learned to ignore that voice for most of the day, allowing herself to be happier, more open and loving, specially with Killian. She missed being truly open with someone. She actually considered him her best friend - not that she'd tell Ruby that, she wouldn't have the time to explain that the brunette was also her best friend before the latter stormed out the door or started screaming at her.

Pulling the door open when she arrived, Emma mused on how long she hadn't been there. Months, maybe. Looking around at all the people, she seemed to have picked a rush hour. All couches and tables had patrons sitting and gathering around it. The bar itself had all its stools occupied, and there were so many heads, she couldn't even see Killian behind it.

Inspecting the crowd, she saw one patron leaving and took it as a chance. Hurrying over to the newly vacant stool, she sat down, sighing, and took off her jacket, hanging it on the rest behind her. Resting her forearms on the cool wooden surface, she finally allowed herself to look up, and smiled sheepishly when she saw Killian already heading towards her, a baffled look on his face.

" _Swan_!," he greeted her. "Long time no see," he joked, throwing the rag in his hand over his shoulder. He then sobered up, more serious. "What are you doing here, love?"

She shrugged. "Well, I called over the agency and they didn't have a case, so I came. Also because the loft's too big without at least two people in it so..."

"Say no more, darling, I'll fetch a fresh beverage for you in a minute." He went off to other customers, almost sliding smoothly behind the counter, and only now could Emma appreciate how good he was at what he did.

He seemed to listen to everything the patrons said as he did his job, pouring drinks swiftly and perfectly, not letting anything spill unless it was absolutely needed. He sometimes grabbed bottles without even looking at them first, completely confident he would take the right one. He always was.

Five minutes later, he laid a glass of rum in front of her. "Apologies for my lateness, love, bit of a crowded night."

"Yeah, I noticed," she replied, taking the glass and sipping it, feeling the burn of the drink down her throat and thanking him. "Any clue on why?"

" _Oy_ , has it ever occurred to you that maybe they're all here because it's a _fantastic_ bar and it's all they could ask for?," he frowned at her, and she chuckled.

"Yeah, okay. Seriously, now."

The wrinkle on his forehead deepened and he looked down. "Football match nearby," he gave in, and turned his back to her as she laughed at his defeated look.

Other twenty minutes passed, and Emma did her best to observe him. In the span of twenty minutes only he received three flirtatious looks, one phone number slid over the bar and one drunken nose boop. To her own surprise, Emma wasn't jealous. Because Killian always seemed to go with it before he ditched the number or shook his head after the girl went away or actually declined anything they asked of him. And sure, the looks he gave her afterwards were enough to convince her he wasn't going anywhere.

Emma had to admit, she really wanted to know how he managed to take all those girls home back when she didn't know she had feelings for him. Then, the little sting of jealousy burned deep down her stomach and she clenched her jaw. No reason to be angry about it now, is there? It's all passed. He's hers now just as much as she's his - which was an incredibly cheesy line and she hated it suited their situation perfectly.

He stopped by again, taking her glass and placing a beer bottle in front of her. "So you can last longer," he said. "I fear today's going to be a late night, love."

"Can I have some onion rings, then?," she asked him with a smirk. He replied with a similar one and went to the kitchen, coming back not two minutes later with a little basket full of the salty snacks. "I come bearing goodies."

"Goodies indeed. Thanks," she graced under her breath, and was surprised by the peck he gave her on the lips a second later, leaving her staring at his back as he went to take more orders. She smiled to herself, and grabbed a ring.

Indeed, she was more than falling for this man; she'd already hit the ground, pretty hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, this is a shorter chapter, and there's definitely not much happening, but it was defo cute; even I can admit that, I melted like five times while writing it.


	24. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so emotional, this is it. It's here.

Their one year anniversary - _roughly_. They didn't really remember the exact day, so they just chose the week they thought was closer to the real thing and did it on a Saturday - was beautiful; for Emma, at least. Killian'd taken her to the roof at three am, just like the time their relationship truly started. Hours before, he'd been determined to prepare her the best late night dinner she'd ever eaten. He'd made her a splendid spaghetti with actual _homemade sauce_ \- if that wasn't being determined, she didn't know what was -. He gave her another rose, and she made sure to do exactly what she'd done back then afterwards - read kiss the _hell_ out of him.

It had definitely been an interesting year. Victor had apparently moved on from Ruby, getting back to his casual one night stands every now and then in the week, being more in the loft, smiling more. Ruby seemed to have matured after everything that had happened between the two of them. Before, she'd been a giggly, flirty, all-over-the-place sort of girl, small clothes, the red streaks in her hair and crimson lipstick making justice to her name. Afterwards, she'd started wearing more jeans, plaid, shirts that covered her cleavage; she'd toned the red dye in her locks to something closer to the brown colour they had. She was more serious, knew when to act giggly and when to act warily. It broke Emma slightly to see her friend smile less, but regardless of that, Ruby was still full of energy.

She still wore her leather pants, so that must mean something.

August'd _finally_ finished his book, and hadn't let Emma read it until it was 'out on shelves in the entire country. Or state. When it's on  _one_ shelve you can read it'. She was glad he'd finally done it, but it was tough to watch him get rejected over and over. It couldn't be _that_ bad.

Mary Margaret and David, well... They'd been tired since little Leo'd come out to the world, but gladly so. Emma visited them once a month, and felt quite a connection with the little one. One day, early in their parenthood, they'd brought him over to the loft, and it was interesting. Leo'd cried the moment he touched Victor's arm, slept peacefully in August's, woken up when he was placed in Emma's arm, but smiled brightly when he looked at her. Mary Margaret's eyes'd watered - apparently, he didn't do that much.

In the end, Emma found herself happier than she'd ever been. So many people around her cared about her, she felt loved whenever she thought she wasn't. When she thought she'd be alone again in no time during the nights she couldn't sleep, Killian's arm would take place around her, as if he could feel her overthinking her life. When she stopped and looked at her routine, wondering if it'd ever change, for worse or for better, she'd hear the banter between Victor and August over the cereal everyone always forgot to buy when doing the groceries. Whenever she wanted to curl into a ball in her old bed - it wasn't _her_ bed anymore, it was hers and Killian's -, Ruby would text her asking if she wanted anything for when she showed uninvited, but welcomed.

She was happy, and she was happy she was happy. It didn't matter the little sense what she felt made.

 

* * *

 

It was a Tuesday in the middle of June when someone knocked on the door and Emma got up to open it. She had to blink a few times after she did so because _what and why?_ "Robin?"

Behind her, she heard Killian, who had been sitting with her, desperately scramble to his feet, tripping slightly in his hurry. "Locksley?"

"Killian!," the newcomer - oldcomer? She didn't know, her brain had stopped working for a second there - exclaimed, brushing past Emma as if she were part of the wall and stepping into the loft, man-hugging Killian for a few moments as the both of them laughed.

"What are you doing here?," Killian asked, stepping back, a small smile on his lips. "It's been three years."

Robin shrugged, an eyebrow raising. "Seems like Marian wasn't enough. I broke up with her, came over to stay with you guys again."

Killian was just about to say something, but Emma decided that was too far. He couldn't just swagger his way back into their lives, their home, after so long without any kind of contact, just because he decided to ditch some poor girlfriend of his. It wasn't up to him, and Emma damn well intended to tell him that. " _Whoah_ , whoah, okay. Uhm, what makes you think you can do that?"

Robin turned around - _yes_ , apparently he'd _just_ noticed she was standing there. She preferred him before this Marian girl - and stared silently at her for full five seconds. "Forgive me, love, but who are you?

Emma had to blink again to make her brain work. Who was she? Killian appeared to be confused too - _finally_ \- and let out a reluctant joke. "Always the sense of humour, Locksley."

Robin looked surprised at his friend's reaction. "What, why?"

Killian's smile dropped and he frowned at his friend. "Come on, you cannot be serious." When the blonde man didn't show any signs of recognition, Killian scoffed. "Bloody hell, mate, it's Emma."

"I was here for three weeks before you left," Emma pondered aloud, feeling as if she were speaking to an old man with a faulty memory.

He narrowed his eyes for a second, only a few moments later recognising her. "Of course! Emma, hello. You're... Still here?"

She raised an eyebrow, unwilling to answer nicely to his surprised tone. Of course she was still there, screw him. She looked over at Killian incredulously, silently calling for help.

He caught on quickly. "So, Robin; I see you've changed. For worse, clearly, I miss the subtlety you used to have." He clapped his hand on the other's shoulder once, finally stepping away and looking around. "Both August and Whale are out, I'll be heading off at 6 for my shift at the bar--"

"You still work at that nasty place?"

"--so we'll have about four hours to do whatever we want," he cheerfully continued, not minding the rude quip. Emma too preferred old Robin; she didn't feel the urge to kick him in the nuts when she talked to him back then.

"Great!," Locksley sang, crossing his arms. "When do the other ones come back?"

"August went for a walk about two hours ago, and Whale's shift at the hospital ends at 7."

"Perfect. Meet me downstairs at 8."

Killian's smile returned at his friend's excitement. "Why, mate, where are we going?"

"Why, a _stripclub_ , of course," Robin scoffed, as if it were the most obvious thing he could have possibly said. "I've just recently become single; it's almost like a tradition. Frankly, Killian; _you_ better than anyone should know how to be single."

"Actually, no, I shouldn't," the dark haired defended. That was the moment Emma realised she was watching the exchange quietly, but suddenly felt the urge to speak up - Killian _wasn't_ single anymore -. She didn't have to. "As it is, to your profound disappointment, mate, I'm not single anymore." She could almost feel his frustration grow at each second that passed, and she just wanted to kick Robin out as kiss the heck out of Killian.

Emma couldn't help but smile lightly at him, even if he wasn't looking at her.

Robin, however, was. "No way." His brows knitted together on his forehead, and he glanced between Emma and Killian. "Are you serious?"

"Excuse me?," she chimed in, offended.

"Locksley, what's wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me, Jones, I just don't understand what made you _settle down_." He said the words in such a mocking tone, it was almost as if he loathed the concept.

"That does happen, sometimes, Robin. You should know it, you and Marian were together for three years."

At the mention of his girlfriend - well. _Ex_ -girlfriend -, the blonde man seemed to shut himself off. His features hardened, his jaw tightened and his shoulders squared. "Yet here I am ftoday, am I not?," he observed through clenched teeth.

At that precise moment, the door opened again and August came in. The next hour was basically the three friends catching up - avoiding the subject relationship - and Emma listening to their conversation, her lack of knowledge about the newcomer-slash-oldcomer leaving her in a disadvantageous spot.

Of course, in their stories, Emma ended up being mentioned and she could quip about whatever the situation had been, but she was mostly silent. She found out she had been a mere small detail in Robin's life in the weeks before he left, which is certainly a _sweet_ information to have knowledge of, right?

"We watched three basketball matches together," she addressed him, in an almost desperate attempt to have a decent excuse.

He hesitated to reply. "I thought I was alone."

She rolled her eyes.

 

* * *

 

They ended up going to the _damned_ strip club at 8 pm that night, to Emma's dismay. Not that she'd truly shown her disapproval when Killian had asked if she was sure she was okay with him going.

"I'm only going because he wants us all to go, love; he's just broken up with Marian and needs some time to heal," he'd assured her. Not that she didn't know it already; she really, _really_ doubted Killian truly wished to go, and wasn't worried about him going either. She was only concerned with what Robin could compel him to do. What if a strip club wasn't the only thing she needed to worry about?

Shaking her head, she sipped the beer she'd taken from the fridge five minutes before - which translated to roughly ten minutes after the guys left - as she lay on her bed. _Their_ bed. It was Killian's room, with all the trinkets he liked to pick up on shelves, old torn-at-the-edges posters of bands up on the walls, a plastic boat model he'd built in one night a few months before sitting at his desk... She could also see her own adaptations of the place, like her red leather jacket thrown over a chair, the cardboard box where she kept her childhood treasures inside the wardrobe, the portrait with a picture of the two of them together - courtesy from Ruby: the photo'd been taken at Victor's birthday party, the big-ass barbecue at the building's roof, and they'd been sitting at the railing, her hand in his, her chin resting on his shoulder as he told her one of his tales of the guys' life at the loft. They had bright smiles on their faces, as if Ruby'd caught them mid-laugh. She'd always loved that picture -.

Emma looked around the room from her spot on the bed, her fingers fiddling with the bottle's rim. That room had slowly become theirs over the few months' course. She loved every detail of it.

Musing over the little things and sipping the beer made her tired after the first hour of wait, and she ended up falling asleep - in Killian's Star Wars t-shirt. She didn't even _remember_ putting it on - in a matter of seconds.

 

* * *

 

She woke up to the sound of the front door closing. Opening one eye, her eyelids felt heavy and sticky, but she forced herself to not sleep again until she figured out who'd come in.

The answer came two seconds later, the bedroom door opening to reveal none other than Killian, who quickly changed into his pyjamas and slipped under the covers with her. He settled next to her, lying on his side as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

"You don't even reek like alcohol; did you _really_ go to a strip club?," she couldn't resist asking, the scent of his cologne filling her nostrils as she turned around, facing him, and buried her face in his neck, breathing in.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling as he did so; she skimmed her arms around his back and pressed herself closer to him. "Aye, love, but I couldn't drink. Not when I felt bad for asking someone to cover my shift at the bar tonight."

She sighed deeply, closing her eyes again and already feeling herself slip from consciousness. "You and your honour and good form."

She felt him press a kiss to her forehead as a response, and smiled lightly against his skin.

Emma dreamed of barbecues and sunlight mixed with laughter and a myriad of love.

 

* * *

 

"You what?" Emma knew that was kind of rude, but screw it, it was Ruby.

"I think I'm in love with Victor. _Again_ ," she repeated calmly, as if she'd already thought the entire thing through.

"How the hell are you so calm about this?!," Emma exclaimed, scared of how her half-whispered sentence sounded desperate.

"I'm tranquil because I have a solution." Her friend straightened her back, a small smile on her red tinted lips.

Emma stood there for a second, not knowing how to proceed. "Solution?"

"I'm going to go hiking for a few weeks."

"And you think that'll solve it."

"Positive. Plus, it'll be good to be away from civilisation for a while. You know I love nature."

"So your solution to forget you have feelings for Victor is to disappear in the _woods_ for weeks?" Emma was feeling so many things at the same time, she had no idea of how to organise her thoughts properly. "Don't you think that'll make you think of him even more?"

Ruby sighed, looking exhausted all of a sudden for the first time that day. She's appeared at the loft and demanded they had the oh so famous girl talk. Emma had led her to the roof and sat down at the bistro table. Not once did her friend appear bummed out or sad. It was almost as if she was trying to convince herself she should be happy. "It's a possibility. But it's a risk I'm willing to take. It's too painful."

 _Ah, yes_. A month ago, Victor had started dating the head of cardiology at the hospital. A serious woman, much different than _Whale_ , Ruby had been shocked when Emma told her. She guessed now it was then she realised how she felt about him.

It got worse when it was clear the woman was almost abusing him, ditching him at every corner, insulting him indirectly, talking behind his back. Ruby _hated_ her. But Victor never noticed and refused to accept it when any of his friends pointed it out. For some reason, he'd become somewhat blind.

Maybe that was one of the reasons Ruby would go on that hike she wasn't telling Emma. Maybe she needed to get away from that environment, from that woman. Maybe some time to think?

Either way, Emma only hoped she'd be okay out there.

 

* * *

 

Ever since the strip club situation, Robin'd moved in and become a part of their life. Again. Since Emma'd pretty much moved into Killian's bedroom, they'd seen no harm in turning her - old - room into his. She had to admit it, though, it was quite strange to see the dumbbells and piles of fitness magazines under her old window.

She did see advantages in moving in with Killian - well, into his room -. It made their relationship feel more real. Despite their living together, moving into the same room and the same bed and the same _desk_... It was like making it even more official.

Thankfully, Robin seemed to have moved on from whatever happened with Marian. He spent the first few days lying on the couch watching TV - Killian had told her the morning after they went to the club that Robin'd had a mild breakdown the previous night, with tears and slurred speech and anything she _didn't_ think would happen. It was why they came home earlier than she'd expected -, but, after the first few weeks, he got better and better.

He showed Emma he was still the kind, responsible man he was when she's started living at the loft, and she was surprised at how much she liked him. She felt as if her family had only expanded.

 

* * *

 

"Robin," Whale hurried into the living room, phone in hand and a smile on his lips. "Prepare to get laid."

Emma closed her book; this was going to be interesting.

"Excuse me?," Robin asked, muting the TV.

"Guess who just set you up with an apparently hot doctor?"

Emma raised an eyebrow. "You?"

Victor looked at her. "You are wrong, my friend. My _girlfriend_ did."

"Oh; the one we don't like?," Robin asked, pressing at the remote and unmuting the match he was watching.

"Precisely," Whale quipped. "And, get this, _Regina_ , the lucky lady who will share a bed with you in two days or three, also happens to be incredibly rich. So it's a win-win."

"I didn't say _yes_ , Victor."

"Oh, but you will. Trust me on this. I'll send you pictures."

"I don't want any pictures!," Ronin exclaimed as Victor started walking back into his room. He then sighed.

Emma chuckled, the exchange amusing her. "You know you're screwed, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Are you going to say yes?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Emma blinked. "You always have a choice." She got up, setting the cushion on her lap back on the armchair and pulling her top down an inch. "You just have to learn how to make it."

She left him with that conclusion, hoping he'd make the right decision - which, to be fair, Emma had no idea which was.

 

* * *

 

"Did I tell you, Swan?"

"What?"

"Robin; he told me he quite enjoyed his date last night."

Emma was genuinely surprised. She froze mid sip and widened her eyes slightly. "Seriously? When?"

He licked his lips rapidly, narrowing his eyes. "Well, he didn't exactly tell me."

"Then how do you know?"

"Let's just say it was clear as your _voice_ is to me right now." He sipped his coffee, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

She frowned, though. "You don't mean--"

"Oh, yes."

"Victor's managed a miracle."

" _Yep_."

Emma smiled. "I hope he's happy."

He chuckled, a crooked smirk on his lips. "Oh, trust me, he is."

They met Regina later that morning as Robin escorted her out. Indeed, she was pretty, and Robin looked at her with a touch of wonder in his eyes.

When he closed the door behind her, Killian made sure to give him a thumbs up. The former turned bright red. 

__

* * *

 

The three weeks passed slowly, and Emma missed Ruby more than ever. There was no cell reception where she'd gone, and Emma could never check up on her. She was worried, but she knew she shouldn't be.

Around the end of the second week, Victor broke up with Evil Meanie Extraordinaire in a glamorous phone call that lasted about three minutes. He cried, said she laughed. At least he was free of the plague.

And it was around that time Emma decided to tell Killian about Ruby - about her real reasons for wanting to disappear.

"Really?," he wondered after she'd recalled their talk before Ruby'd gone.

Emma hummed. He hummed back.

"Should we do something about it? Victor's just broken up with Dr Mean Girl, and I suspect it was because of more than just the woman's personality."

"What, you think he realised he has feelings for a Ruby too?," she questioned, crossing her arms.

"It's a possibility, love. They've been on this back and forward of feelings but no actions were made, not ever since they broke up." He scratched behind his ear. "Do you think we should tell him?"

"No!," she exclaimed, scowling. "Not without asking Ruby first; it is her life, after all."

"Then call her."

"I can't reach her."

"Will she call?"

"I don't know, she just sort of does; it's not like we have a schedule or something."

He rubbed his left eye, looking for ways to communicate with Ruby about the whole situation. They both wanted their friends to be happy, and it seemed the longer the spent apart, the less happy they appeared to be.

"We have to find a way to hint him that Ruby's in love with him," Emma proposed, searching her mind for ways to do so.

It was then they heard a step outside the ajar door and turned around, only managing to get a glimpse of Victor's devastated face before the latter stepped back and out of their sight.

The two of them exchanged looks, Emma gulping and Killian clenching his jaw several times, holding their breaths without really noticing.

"It appears we won't need to, love," he said lowly, his tone dark. She pursed her lips in response.

They got up, realising Whale was still out there without really knowing what they were talking about but probably coming up with thousands of assumptions and theories in the spam of ten seconds.

Outing the room, they found him sitting on the couch, staring at the black screen of the TV that had once been Emma's alone as if it were turned on.

"Victor?," Killian called softly, settling next to his friend and motioning for Emma to sit on the opposite side of him.

"Who is Ruby in love with?," he asked weakly, looking at the two of them as if they held the secret formula to extinguish cancer or something. They hesitated, and he frowned deeply. "Is Ruby in love with _me_?"

How did he know that? It could be the man who worked at that bakery a couple blocks away, or the doorman in that fancy hotel two buildings to their left, maybe even her landlord.

Who was she kidding; it was obvious.

She just nodded.

He seemed to deflate, the already very present dark circles under his eyes looking deeper. His shoulders dropped, and she felt as if she could blow on him and he'd tilt forward.

However, all of a sudden, he seemed to be full of energy. "Where is she?"

Emma shook her head. "On a hike, trying to forget how she feels, for three weeks now. I can't reach her on my phone, there's no reception there."

He seemed desperate, wide eyes and fast breathing, and sprung up to his feet. "I have to find her."

"Mate, you can't; it's better to wait--"

"I can't _wait_ , Killian, the love of my life is out there suffering because I was too stubborn and too blind. I have to tell her how I feel."

Emma rested her hand on his armas, standing as well. "And you will. But you can't run after her now, you'll never find her."

He swallowed dryly, fists clenching and unclenching. He shook his head fiercely. "I have to try."

With that, he stormed to the door, ignoring Emma's and Killian's protests; but they didn't have to insist much more.

When he opened the door, they saw Ruby was behind it.

She blinked up at him just as he blinked down at her, and Killian slowly walked to Emma's side, pulling on her sleeve as if saying 'this is it'. _This is it._

"Hi," Ruby started, adjusting the heavy backpack on her shoulder and flinching slightly when her hair got stuck under the strap. "Uhm, Victor, I have something to tell y--"

She also didn't have to say much more, because Whale pounced forward and kissed her and all Emma and Killian could do was watch with grins on their faces. Because Ruby was frozen for the first few seconds but wasted no time in reciprocating the kiss after the haze passed. Because they could see the two of them smiling into the kiss. Because Victor lifted her, who dropped the backpack on the floor and bent her legs, crossing them at the ankles. Because it was an adorable scene that was increasingly growing into something gross and slightly indecent - Whale's hand seemed to travel lower than it was considered proper. But Emma and Killian knew their friends didn't care about proper at that moment.

 

* * *

 

In the end, it was as if all the trouble they'd gone through throughout these past years had been for this one purpose: happy endings for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could honestly cry right now. 
> 
> It's over, you guys. I've never finished a story before, and I never thought I'd finish this one. Hell, I've never written over 9 chapters of any multi chapter ever. We've reached 23 plus an epilogue and that's a lot. 
> 
> I wouldn't have done it at all if it weren't for the readers - aka you all. It doesn't matter if you've ever commented or not, I just want you to know I would have never done it without you, and that I thank you. Infinite plus one times. Plus two, even. 
> 
> Really, I cannot properly express in words how surprised and proud I am of myself for this work. 
> 
> I love you all very very much and I hope I find new ideas for other fanfictions. Because this was damn well one of the best things I've ever done.


End file.
